Life Goes On
by coffeevixen84
Summary: Daily life for our favorite smartass detective...
1. Chapter 1

Life Goes On…

Chapter 1: No Sleep Tonight

Author's Note: This is my first VM fic…and I'm unbelievably nervous. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated… positive, negative, ambiguous, whatever. If this goes well, I'll hopefully be able to update frequently. And if no one likes it, I'll run away. It's a LoVe story at heart, and the whole ensemble will be there and everybody I like will get a turn in the spotlight. Basically, I'm playing with them to kill the time until the new episodes come back again. So everything that has happened on the show has happened here. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars, the characters or the premise. If I did, epic wouldn't be so hard.

_There are, of course, many upsides to Dad's appointment to temporarily fill the position of Balboa County Sheriff…the salary, obviously; the lack of obstacles (legal and otherwise) in obtaining information from the department's records; the advantage of a badge and uniform and title; the readily available staff. But being as it is, well, temporary, there are downsides too. Namely, trying to keep Mars Investigations open and thriving on the side. Which has fallen largely into my petite, already-full-with-the-demands-of-higher-education hands. Not that I mind too much, I've always preferred being busy, and it's not like I couldn't use the distraction from my personal life, but all the same, even the great Veronica Mars needs sleep sometime…_

"V?" Wallace called as he let himself into the Mars apartment, immediately heading to the fridge as he listened for a reply.

"I'll be out in a second!"

Accustomed to the often-hectic merry-go-round of Veronica's life, he wasn't surprised that she was running slightly behind, he was however surprised by the unkempt state of the usually clear living room. Nibbling on a sandwich, he glanced around, taking in the spread of text books and notes along the couch, the stack of file folders piled high beside the chair, and another haphazard heap upon the kitchen counter.

He was just sweeping the crumbs off his shirt when his best friend padded out from her bedroom, wet hair thrown messily into a bun atop her head, clad in soccer shorts and a thin, old t-shirt.

"Hey, is there a reason your home looks like a crazy old hermit-professor's office?"

Moving to grab a water bottle, she shot him a smirk. "I've got at least 6 cases going for my dad, not to mention 3 tests this week. I've found that I'm too busy to clean up between tasks. Which is just one of the reasons I'm not sure how you talked me into _this_."

"Oh, come on, all work and no play is the surest way to a breakdown. And didn't you tell me just the other day you felt as if you weren't getting the full college experience?"

Making a playful show of rolling her eyes, and donning her classic sorority-girl voice, Veronica nudged his shoulder. "Meaning where is my stint on 'Girls Gone Wild,' not let's go play intramural Ultimate Frisbee."

Wallace merely chuckled as he ushered her towards the door.

* * *

"Veronica, I had no idea you were so competitive." Bronson commented as he, Mac, Wallace, and a very sweaty, very grass-stained Veronica Mars crossed the quad of Hearst College. 

"Really? Have you ever met her? 'Cause it kinda goes right along with the being a pushy-stubborn-fearless-badass thing she's got kickin'."

Giggling at her BFF's assessment, she swatted at him in mock indignation, but didn't bother to deny it. "Hey, it just might have been my pushy-stubborn-fearless-badass-ness that ensured our victory."

Mac smiled, "And to think, those silly Frat Boys had the nerve to call you 'Princess.'"

"Even after she slide-tackled two of them."

Smiling as she relived the memory of taking a smug and taunting Chip Diller down, Veronica almost didn't notice the lanky male figure lurking a few yards away, staring at her intently.

Motioning towards the boy with a nod of her head, the foursome changed their direction slightly, and soon his nervous expression deepened as they stood directly, and expectantly, before him.

"Can I help you?" Veronica asked, no edge in her voice, but not necessarily any friendliness either.

"Are you Veronica Mars?"

"Most people seem to think so."

"I need your help."

"I figured, so can you fast forward to the details, I'm low on time."

"My name is Toby. Toby Day. And I need you to prove that someone in my Statistics course switched my test."

Apparently Toby overestimated her psychic ability, because it took the crossing of her arms and quirking of her eyebrow to get the thin and shifty-eyed boy to continue.

"We got back tests today that we had taken a few weeks ago, and I got a much, much lower score than I had been expecting. After looking over the test, I realized the work didn't match my own, that the answers weren't what I put down. I studied, hard, and knew what I was talking about. Whoever put in the answers for this test didn't have a clue. I know it wasn't mine. So I went to the professor, but there was only one test turned in with my name, and no tests were turned in without a name, and the handwriting is a pretty good match for mine, so she seems to think that I just don't remember what I put down or that I'm trying to cheat. The difference between the score and what I was expecting is significant enough to hurt my class grade, which can kill my GPA, which could take away my scholarship. I need you to find out who did this, and then prove it. I'm not sure what your going rate is, but I can give you two hundred now, and another three hundred later."

Veronica's face remained blank a moment, eyes squinting as she processed his request. When she spoke, the boy seemed to be taken by surprise that she hadn't just walked away. "What time is your class?"

"Mondays and Wednesdays, 11:30."

"Can you meet me tomorrow for lunch, 12:15?"

"Yeah, I should be able to make that."

"Okay, bring a list of everyone in that class, the professor's schedule, including office hours, and the two hundred dollars to the food court. I'll see you then."

Toby nodded in response, but Veronica had already turned and was heading back in her original direction, Wallace, Mac and Bronson in tow.

* * *

"Should you really have taken on another case? You're already using your entire apartment as a workdesk. How are you going to have space, let alone time, for this too?" 

"Relax, this shouldn't be too hard. He's going to flat out hand me a list of suspects. It's not even as complicated as the McMurphy pre-nup case I'm on." She glanced at Wallace briefly, before returning her gaze to the streets of Neptune. "And besides, I could use the money."

"By money, do you mean excuse to lock yourself away and avoid anywhere Parker and Logan might be seen?"

Veronica could feel Wallace's stare burning intently on the side of her face, but was determined to keep her voice as light as possible. "No, that's just a bonus."

His own tone indicated he didn't buy it. "How are you handling that, really?"

Pausing a moment, Veronica felt herself relent and forced out a brief response of emotional honesty. "Really? I'm not. I don't even know how to, so I'm just not. And so far, it's working out okay."

"How do you figure?"

"I haven't been a bitch to Parker, I haven't picked a fight with Logan. I haven't cried. I haven't whined. I haven't gouged my own eyes out, or beat up his car. So in the great spectrum of ex-girlfriends, I'm on the less-crazy end."

"You also barely see one of your best friends, and rarely leave your house."

"Mac understands. She knows I'm trying, and she's got Bronson to keep her company anyway." She tried to indicate with a set jaw and a slight volume increase on the radio that she didn't want to talk about it anymore. While her point was probably taken, it didn't stop Wallace from trying to get the last word in.

"V, just remember, you can be a badass, _and_ a real person, at the same time. That's kind of what I'm here for."

* * *

She didn't want to admit it, as she strode purposefully into the food court the following afternoon, but she was a little nervous. Taking a swift inventory of the students milling about between classes or grabbing a quick bite, Veronica realized that Toby wasn't there yet, and that thankfully the two students she was only internally acknowledging she was avoiding weren't there either. 

Letting a slow breath of relief out, she made her way to one of the few remaining empty tables and pulled out the flashcards she'd made for her upcoming psychology exam, hoping to get through the thick stack at least two more times before her test later that afternoon.

A chapter's worth of cards in, she could feel someone's stare on her and looked up expecting to find her newest client. Instead she locked eyes with one Logan Echolls, and it took every ounce of strength she had to suppress her groan.

"You're avoiding me."

Rolling her eyes as she set her neatly color-coded index cards on the table, she took her time in answering him. "No. I'm not."

"Okay then, semantics, you're avoiding _us_."

She felt a slight cringe at his use of the word while meaning him and Parker. She was thankful he didn't seem to notice it. "No, I'm just busy."

"You're busy on purpose."

"Look, Logan, what do you want from me? We broke up. You're dating someone new. I gave my blessing when you asked. I have been civil, and polite, and haven't uttered a single word to suggest that I'm anything other than fine with it. Do you want me to throw you a party, too? Do you want me to try and move on a little faster so we can set up a double date? I'm doing the best I can, and honestly, I'm just _that_ busy."

Her voice hadn't been angry, her eyes hadn't been cold. Nothing about her had meant to be combative or attacking in any way, still she thought she saw him flinch and she knew she could hear a defensive quality in his reply

"I didn't expect to lose you completely."

"Well, I wasn't _expecting_ to lose you at all, but…." She sucked in a deep breath, stopping herself from baiting him, from being baited. "If you'll excuse me, I'm meeting someone."

Thankfully at that moment, as if on cue, Toby finally stepped up to the table, awkwardly, but yet oblivious to the tension between the former lovers.

"Veronica? You ready?"

"Yeah, Toby. Have a seat. Logan was just leaving."

And even though she refused to look at her ex-boyfriend again, she knew he watched her for a few more moments as he backed away.

* * *

"And what kind of 'favor' do you need this time?" Weevil's eyes had barely flickered in her direction before he went right back to the wiring task at hand. 

Feigning shock, Veronica's mouth formed a near-perfect 'O.' "What makes you think I need a favor?"

"It's the head tilt, V. I've told you before…dead give away."

Giving a small smile, she fully entered the vacant classroom. "Damn me and my innate girliness." She waited patiently as he finished up with a few snips and some screwdriving, and then turned his attention upon her. "I'm working a case, and I was hoping to do a little sleuthing in a certain professor's office. Nothing too intrusive, of course. Just some file perusing and a bug or two. Maybe a tiny camera. Do you by any chance have keys to all the rooms on campus on that awfully large ring of yours?"

He raised his eyebrow, perhaps in resistance, but she could see the amusement and fondness in his large brown eyes. "You never cease to amaze me." His voice had no hint of surprise though. He gave a little shake of his head and stalled, wiping his hands clean of any grease his job may have entailed. "How much would the key be worth to you?"

"See, I am banking on your missing of the good, ol' days of B & E and the thrill of rebellion." She shot him a playful but honest smile.

"What time are you planning this thrilling act of rebellion for?"

"Say 9ish?" She slipped him a small piece of paper with the building and room number of Toby's professor's office.

He nodded slightly, but as she walked away she smiled as she heard him muttering something about blondes and head tilts and him being a sucker.

* * *

"Mac Attack, you ready for this?" 

"As ready as a girl can get for her first venture into actual espionage."

Shooting her closest gal pal her very brightest Veronica-smile, she held out a small gift bag.

"If I had known presents went along with the missions, I would have upgraded past gadgets years ago." Peaking inside, only a slightly exaggerated expression of excitement on her face, Mac reached in and lifted out a rolled up t-shirt. Unfolding it, she let out a snorty laugh. "Did you seriously buy me a shirt that says, 'Hot and Sneaky'?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"Do you expect me to where it tonight?"

"Ah, yes, I do. Aaand…" dramatically unzipping her dark hoodie, Veronica revealed a similar shirt that read 'Smart and Sassy' across the chest. "I could never get Wallace to coordinate wardrobes with me. I'm so glad you're a girl."

"Me too. But for other reasons. Let me just change then so we can go get our spy on."

Looking around the room while she waited, Veronica couldn't help but think of how glad she was to have a friend like Mac. She loved Lilly, and still missed her every day, but friends like Wallace and Mac, they let her be a whole other side of her self, and there was something truly special about that. Studying the photos and posters Mac had put up to claim the dorm space as her own, it was without turning at the sound of the door, that she giggled, calling out to her friend, "Hot and Sneaky, you ready to go a-Nancy-Drew-in'?"

She was surprised when it was Logan's voice that answered her. "I always felt more like Nancy's schluppy friend, Bess, myself. But thanks for the ego boost."

Feeling her cheeks redden, Veronica twisted to look briefly at Mac's roommate and her ex-boyfriend, linked at the hands, before searching for anything else in the room her eyes could dwell on.

"Sorry, I was just waiting for Mac to come back from changing."

Noticing the tension in her boyfriend's shoulders, and the pained discomfort etched clearly across Veronica's face, Parker tried to push it away with pleasantness. Her smile was wide, and genuinely trying to please, as she asked, "Are you and Mac going out for a case tonight?"

Slipping in through the still partly opened dorm door, Mac took the liberty of answering, shooting an apologetic glance to the very uneasy-looking petite detective. "Yeah. It's my first time actually out in the field. I'd be nervous about breaking in to an office if Veronica wasn't so good at it."

"Well, every girl needs a talent. Why shouldn't that be mine? Anyway, Mac, we really should go. Weevil gets cranky if he has to wait for me." Veronica was surprised that it was only half an excuse to get the hell out of the room.

"Wait, your breaking in somewhere with Weevil?" Veronica was surprised at the lack of detectable emotion in Logan's voice, but she tried to give him a slight smile in case it was concern that made him ask. But she doubted it.

"Actually, he's just the enabler tonight. He's still on parole after all." And with a slight nod as goodbye, she made her way out the door and away from the awkwardness.

* * *

"Sorry about that, they don't usually get to the room until closer to 10 on Tuesdays." 

As they walked side by side across the campus, Veronica gave her friend a shrug. "It's not a big deal, don't worry about it. It's her room, she can come and go as she pleases. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Between you and Wallace and my dad asking me every day, I've gotten to be quite certain that I'm okay."

A moment of quiet passed before Mac spoke up again. "So, what exactly are we looking for tonight?"

"Well, Toby implied his professor was a little old-school, so best case scenario, she'd have some hand-written info. Like the grades for the semester to see if anyone's score was unusually high on the test in question. Maybe see if we can get any indication on how much she let's her TA help with grading. Toby seems to think of everyone involved with the class, he's the one who has the closest thing to a grudge against him. Apparently they hit on the same girl at a math-lete party, I don't know."

Mac stifled a giggle, as they approached the darkened math and science building. Making there way, quietly but quickly, to the third floor, they found the familiar outline of Weevil propped lazily against the wall.

"You dragging another innocent girl down into a life of lies and deceit?"

"I'm certainly trying."

He returned her smirk "I asked around. Old Wes is cleaning up this building tonight. He talks to himself and is very thorough, so you should have plenty of time before he makes his way up here, and you should hear him coming. If you should get caught, I don't know you and I had nothing to do with this."

Fixing her with a significant look, he pushed off the wall and crossed to unlock the door and then handed her the key.

"Thanks, Weevil."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be in the food court when you are done."

Once he was out of earshot, Veronica turned to Mac and whispered. "He thinks he's all tough and grumpy, but he's really just a great, big, ex-motorcycle-gang-leading teddy bear."

"Now _that_ should be on a t-shirt."

* * *

_Having spent a large portion of my day running back and forth between over-extended private eye and scholastically committed student, one would expect that at 3 in the morning, when I finally had allotted time for sleep, that it would come easily, and would be welcomed with open arms. And yet, here I am, 47 minutes later, eyes still open and alert, mind still racing. And these are the moments when I am quite sure that I hate Logan Echolls._

_And sadly, they are also the moments when I'll admit that I miss him._


	2. Chapter 2

Life Goes On…

Chapter 2: Deconstruction

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews…and please keep them coming!

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Damn it.

Begrudgingly putting down her carefully aimed and steadied camera, Veronica answered the chirping of her phone with an all-business tone. "Whatcha got for me?"

"What? No, 'Hi, _Wallace_. Thanks for helping me out, _Wallace_. Have you had a nice day, _Wallace_?'"

She smiled into the phone, knowing he was merely playing hard to get. "It's 2:30am, so no, right now all I've got is, 'What did you find out, _Wallace_?'"

Between the Hearst rapist and the dean's murder, Veronica had already found herself with a little bit of notoriety around campus. Which in and of itself, she enjoyed because it meant slowly but surely, people were learning it was unwise to piss her off. But it did also complicate the interrogation process. Most college students have something they are trying to hide, especially from a prying no-nonsense teenage private eye. So she'd recently decided it was time to put her friends to work, as much to keep as small a profile as possible as to simply alleviate some of the stress of over-booking herself. And after an hour on the college Facebook site, searching interests, hobbies, and schedules for all the other 13 students in Toby's statistics course, she'd handed them off to Mac, Piz, and Wallace to split up and _casually_ run into for subtle questioning.

"Well, Piz reported that all six of his guys looked guilty of something, but that only two of them would have actually had any reason to cheat. The other four were already good students, or the kind that don't care if they fail, they're just in college for the ladies."

Still keeping a watchful eye on the Camelot, she felt around in her bag for a pen and a notebook. "Okay, so the two who needed to cheat, what are their names?"

"Uh, Preston Thompson and David Meeks."

"Did he mention whether or not either of them reacted to prodding on Toby?"

"Nothing significant. One of the guys didn't even recognize the name."

"Alright, how'd Mac do?"

"She had one girl who responded very negatively to Toby's name. Apparently he asks pretentious questions in class, and gives her the, quote: 'uh-oh feeling.' That was Jenny Schreiver. And Franklin Graves complained that Toby was 'just another smug punk who throws off the curve and doesn't bother to feel bad about it.'"

Veronica was about to inquire about his findings, when she saw movement at the door to room 15. "Wallace, that's awesome, but is there anyway I can call you back? I can hear my money shot calling." Without waiting for a reply, she traded her phone for her camera and quickly focused it on the profiled figures stepping out into the night.

"Alright, Mr. McMurphy, give the little hussie a good night kiss."

When the couple leaned into enough light, on instinct her finger clicked, even as her mouth fell open and her eyes grew wide.

"Madison Sinclair is the McMurphy home wrecker ?!"

* * *

"Veronica, I know that you are on the cusp of full-fledge adulthood and that truthfully speaking, you've been keeping pretty much whatever hours you want for the last few years, but all the same, when you are in the exact same position when I wake up that you were in when I went to bed, as a father, I have to be a little concerned."

Taking a long drink of the freshly brewed coffee, Keith Mars looked pointedly at his daughter.

"I slept."

He continued to stare.

"Well, I laid down."

He didn't even blink.

"I did. For a full 30 minutes! But then, when I couldn't fall asleep, I figured if I wasn't going to get any rest again, I may as well use the time to get something accomplished."

Finally, braving her fortress of paperwork, Keith's eyes softened to a sympathetic gaze as he leaned in to kiss her lovingly on the forehead.

"Honey, you know I'm proud of you, and I love that you are so _you_, but you have to leave time for sleeping. And eating. And breathing. If Mars Investigations only has a case or two at a time for right now, that's okay. You are only human."

* * *

_Perhaps, when it's becoming a common theme amidst those who really know and love you to remind you that you are, in fact, "only human," it's time to reevaluate the steely and self-reliant exterior you've forced yourself to build and perfect. _

_But, honestly, if you were okay with admitting you are just human, and all the vulnerability and weakness that implies, you probably wouldn't have built all your walls up to begin with._

_Of course, when I started my construction, I didn't have nearly as many people who know and love me to rely on…and I've found that having those people makes all the difference in the world._

* * *

Pouring over her notes with fierce and desperate concentration, Veronica didn't notice Weevil until he cleared his throat, setting his tray down with a thud and clang across from her.

"You stare at that page any harder and it's going to burst into flames."

"Do you think that'd be an excuse worthy of getting an extension on my exam?"

He seemed to contemplate a moment before answering, "Well, who is going to say 'no' to a girl who can set things on fire with her eyes?"

Too tired and stressed to chuckle, she tried to give him a smile as she closed up her books.

"Really, V, not that I'm an expert on over-achieving or anything, but you look like you could use a break. Or five."

"Yeah, yeah. I've been getting that a lot lately. Maybe it's just the nice way of letting me know that I'm not pretty any more."

"Trust me, that's not it. We're just worried about you." Weevil looked at her meaningfully, and she almost blushed at his intensity.

Sighing, she showed him the most energized look she could muster. "I appreciate it. I really do. But I'm fine. I'd be more worried about me when I have five minutes where my thoughts can wander freely. That's when things tend to end up badly. As long as I have a constructive place I can put them, I'm golden."

He nods slowly, taking a sip of his drink, then looks around them briefly, as if his thoughts were hidden in the crowd. Finally, his eyes settled at a non-spot on the wall somewhere to his left. "You know when Lilly left me to go back to _him_, I thought I'd go crazy if I had one more second of thinking about how much I missed her." Another sip, as he looked away from her, hard and purposefully. "But even when I was miserable, even when I was angry, I was sure she was worth the energy, the time, the torment." Finally, he looked back at her with an expression she really couldn't read. "Are you really sure Echolls is worth all this?"

* * *

"So, the McMurphy case is closed? And Madison, spoiled, heartless, arch-nemesis-ruined-your-life-Madison, was 'the other woman' blowing the pre-nup to hell?"

Veronica merely nodded at a disbelieving Wallace as she hunched over, lacing her sneakers tight.

"Well, I guess that's one case down, 6 to go?"

"Actually, only 5. At 6:30 this morning, as I was finishing up my philosophy paper, I figured out how to prove that the Donaldson's twenty-something live-in nanny had used her parole-violating boyfriend to help con them out of a year's worth of retirement savings. They just called to let me know, she confessed and they're in the process of getting all the money back."

"You sure you are up for today's match though? We could get a sub if you want to take a nap?"

Rolling her eyes for what felt like the 300th time at someone's unnecessary concern for her and her sleep patterns, she peered up at him skeptically. "A sub? Like who? Who else loves you enough to go chase a plastic disc like a golden retriever for two hours?"

When Wallace answered, "Parker," while looking a mix of nervous and guilty, Veronica had to make an effort to ease up the jaw she'd unconsciously set tight.

"That's okay, I can manage. Besides, it's therapeutic. Knocking down and thoroughly crushing those who underestimate and enrage me has always been one of my most favorite ways to relax."

Having noticed the forceful way she was pulling up her socks and brushing back her hair, Wallace chose to remain quiet and nod, and couldn't help but feel a little sorry for anyone who dared to get in her way today. On the playing field or otherwise.

* * *

"Wow, you guys are really good." Despite not being needed on the team, Parker had insisted on coming along to the second round of the Intramural Ultimate Frisbee Tournament as their soccer mom/cheerleader. Complete with a cooler full of post-game refreshments. To suggest that this had any effect on the whole new level of viciousness Veronica displayed in the match would probably not have been too far off, if anyone had been brave enough to bring it up.

"If by "you guys" you mean Veronica, then yes. Yes, we are." Piz smiled, inhaling his third Capri Sun in a matter of minutes.

"I don't know if she's good as much as she's violent, but whatever, it's working."

"Yeah, I expected that one poor kid to be taken off the field on a stretcher." Mac shot Veronica an accusatory glance, even if it was layered with fondness and amusement.

Shrugging as a defense, Veronica just smiled. "He asked for my number. He had it coming."

Her smile fell and her back stiffened as a new voice joined the conversation from over her shoulder. "He could have just saved you from great, life threatening peril, I think it's been scientifically proven as the surest way to grab a Mars' attention."

Ignoring the shudder in her chest, and the fact that Logan was standing uncomfortably close to her side, Veronica forced out an even voice. "Well, as fun as this has been, I should go get cleaned up. I've got an appointment in 45 minutes, and wealthy, overly-protective parents wait for no one."

She walked away without another glance, and said a silent prayer that the several sets of eyes she could feel watching her leave didn't hold pity for her inside.

* * *

Somewhat precariously balancing her Profiling text and her steaming and large cup of coffee, Veronica waited outside of Alex Dotson's class, wanting to have a bit of a chat with Toby's least favorite TA.

Hearing the shuffling noises of students packing up and leaving their desks, she maneuvered her book back into her bag just as the first few students pushed their way into the narrow hall. Having had Toby point him out to her online, she quickly recognized a tall blonde as her target and smoothly slid in step next to him. "Alex?"

Turning to her quizzically, as if surprised that she not only managed to sneak up on him, but also that she knew who he was, she turned on her very brightest smile. He seemed to soften instantly. "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Veronica. And I'm a freshman here, and I thought I knew what I wanted to be, you know. Like, a CSI, but let me tell you after almost two full semesters of the necessary classes, it is so not what it looks like on TV. So I'm thinking about switching majors, going for something a bit more exciting, maybe more math-y, and I heard you were the fellow to talk to about what classes to take and what professors to talk to, stuff like that."

She saw a flicker of flattered pride cross his face and smiled inwardly at boys and their predictability.

"Well, I didn't realize I was so famous for that expertise, but I'd certainly be willing to help. What exactly are you hoping to do with math?"

Just as she opened her mouth to answer, a loud burst of music filled the hall. She smiled, recognizing the ringtone and mouthing along with the familiar, lyrical phone number, 867-5309.

"I'm sorry, can you excuse me a second, Veronica? It's my lady." He showed her a goofy, love struck grin and she wondered why someone so pleasant and seemingly harmless had to be her prime suspect. "Yeah, Jen, I know… Well, we'll figure it out…You know I'd do anything….Love you too, gotta go. Bye."

Once his attention was refocused on her, Veronica's face scrunched in curiosity. "Her name's really Jenny? That's so cool, I love that song."

"Yeah. Cute, isn't it? She picked it out. Jenny Schreiver. You know her?"

Veronica shook her head.

"She's a math major too. I'm a lucky man, she's beautiful and brilliant. In fact she's going to be going to be a Sir Newton's Scholar soon."

"A what?"

He smiled, his pride obvious. "The Math Department's Honors Program. It's kind of a big deal. There are only 7 spots, and it's a full tuition scholarship, fellowship opportunities, and pretty much a guarantee to study anywhere you want to for graduate school. Hey, if you really want to talk to somebody about what classes to take, she'd probably be a great help, give you a woman's perspective even."

Nodding appreciatively, Veronica smiled and waved goodbye. Once she turned the corner, she pulled her phone out and dialed quickly, her crime-solving face on.

"Mac? It's me. It might be just a hunch, but can you HelpDesk hack your way into the Financial Aid info? I need to find out what kind of scholarship Toby's so scared of losing."

* * *

"So, run this by me again." Toby's usual squirrelly expression was instead one of confused anger. "_She_ did it?"

Nodding, Veronica laid everything she'd spent her afternoon uncovering out for him. "Jenny Schreiver, the lady math-lete you hit on who also happens to be an embittered classmate, is now dating your rival, Alex. And it turns out, she also happens to be the alternate for the Honor's Program. Being the professor's T.A. it was actually pretty easy for him to get your test, and he probably grabbed something else too, to use for a handwriting sample. Then passed it on and let her alter your test. Since you were already on scholarship probation from last semester's GPA plummet, if you didn't bring it up this semester she'd get your place as a Sir Newton's Scholar."

"I can't believe this? How could someone stoop so low? Either one of them?"

Veronica looked at him sympathetically, as he began to wring his hands in frustration, worked up eyes darting around the Hearst food court. "I don't know, Toby. She could have had several different reasons for wanting the scholarship so badly she'd stoop so low for it. Money problems can make a person desperate. So can pride. And well, he just wanted _her_ that badly. Enough for a typically sweet guy to do anything."

Her own eyes wandered from the boy before her and found another, very familiar boy across the room, his arms slung loosely around the shoulders of an animated blonde as she giggled at something her roommate said.

Maybe it was the grand total of only 5 hours of sleep she'd had the whole week catching up to her. Maybe it was the look of disbelieving aggravation on Toby's face, and knowing that while she'd only been doing her job, she was the one who put it there. Maybe it was seeing people she cared about so happy without her, so unaffected by her absence. But all of a sudden, stinging wet tears filled her eyes, and a thick and sour lump rose up in her throat. With only a hasty mumbling of an "I'm sorry" to the unnoticing boy across from her, she grabbed her bag and bolted.

* * *

"Veronica?"

"I'm here." Her voice was hoarse as she called out for Wallace, raspy and croaking. She listened as he shut the door behind him, and smiled when she heard the refrigerator open and shut before she heard his footsteps make their way down the hall. Bracing herself, she tried to look as normal as possible for when he walked in her door. But from his widened and surprised eyes, she knew she had failed.

"What's wrong?" His immediate concern was genuine and soft as he set his acquired snack down on her desk and moved to join her on the bed, pulling her to his side.

Lips quaking into a deeper frown as her eyes welled up for what must have been the 10th time since she'd rushed home, she sniffed at the air helplessly, trying to gain enough composure to answer him. "My tests are over. All but one of my cases are solved. So tonight, I actually could do nothing but let myself think about missing him…"she gulped at the air, hoping it would flatten her voice out, and finding it did the very opposite. "And now I can't stop." Letting herself sink into him, she felt his arms tighten around her and felt the slightest, but most precious, wave of relief. "I think you were right. I'm not handling this well at all."

And, after her tears finally dried, it was to the soft promises of her best friend, assuring her that everything would be okay, that Veronica Mars finally fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Life Goes On…

Chapter 3: Lie to Me

Disclaimer: Not Mine. Not Mine.

_Honesty and Truth are fickle concepts. To be a P.I. you have to subscribe to the rather cliché essentials that a) the truth** is** out there; and b) that honesty **is** the best policy._

_But even as I may be a rather tireless detective, I'll also be the first to admit that it isn't always pretty. There's a reason why people say that' ignorance is bliss.' And frankly, the truth is usually much easier for the teller to tell than for the hearer to hear. You 'bite the bullet,' you 'clear your conscience,' and you find that 'the truth will set you free.'_

_While whoever was just given the cold hard facts is left to deal with the wreckage._

_Maybe by best policy, they meant the most selfish?_

* * *

Keith entered the small but homey Mars family apartment in a sluggish schlump of exhaustion. Falling onto the couch dramatically, he spoke without even making an effort to turn towards Veronica. "Where's my turkey pot pie?" 

"On the kitchen counter in hell," Veronica retorted, the edges of her lips pulling up into a slight smile.

"Ooooh, tsk, tsk. Is that any way to speak to your only father?" Pushing himself slowly into an almost-sitting position, he feigned an insulted expression.

"When he ignores the fruits of three decades worth of feminists' labor, then yes." She leaned over the arm of the couch to kiss his cheek. "But since you are my **_only_** father, and I love you despite your severely backwards thinking, I do have dinner for you. It's no turkey pot pie, but will re-heated Chicken Kiev do?"

"Sounds perfect."

Settling back with his legs up and his eyes closed, Keith would have been perfectly content to cat nap until his dinner was served. His daughter, of course, had other plans. Making no effort to keep quiet as she pulled open drawers and ruffled through cabinets, her tone was inquisitive as she began talking at him.

"So another girl went missing from a San Diego club this weekend. That's the 8th one in 3 months."

Keith stayed quiet.

"She fit the same description as the others, too. Pretty. Petite. Blonde. Too young to buy her own drinks. Known for being kind of wild and spontaneous, so no one who was with her thought she'd been abducted until the following day."

Still, Keith's eyes stayed shut.

Finally, he felt the her shadow fall over him and peeked with one eye to see her standing near him, steaming plate outstretched in her hands.

He took it, but only smiled his thank you.

"The news also mentioned that the state has asked all levels of law enforcement to assist in the investigation. Including the Balboa County Sheriff's Department." She handed him a beer and plopped down beside him, waiting expectantly as she watched him chew. "Spill it, Dad. What's going on? Do they have any idea what's happening to these girls?"

Taking his time and swallowing slowly, he even took a long gulp of his Budweiser before turning to face her intently curious gaze. And he made a special point of forcing his voice to be solid and authoritative. "Veronica, we just got called into this today. My department hasn't even been completely briefed."

"But _you_ have been, I can tell you know something."

Keith sighed. "Yes, I have been filled in on what the investigation has found so far, however, I'm sorry to disappoint you, honey, but I'm not telling you any of it. I want you to stay out of this case, completely. It has occurred to more than just me that, at least physically speaking, you fit the profile of what these guys are going after. And that's enough to make a father nervous, even without you digging and probing into the case. Every man and woman of the law within a 200-mile radius is supposed to be contributing to this case. Let them take care of it."

Veronica recognized the finality of his tone; he wasn't yelling at her but he certainly meant what he was saying. She could see the worry etched into his eyes, and she hated to lie to him. But she was who she was.

"I was just curious, Dad. I promise. I'll stay safe."

He looked at her hard, and Veronica thought for a moment she saw disbelief, but then he smiled, taking a large bite of his dinner into his mouth and winking playfully. "Good, 'cause who else is going to make my dinner?"

* * *

"Hey there, stranger." 

Veronica looked up from her computer screen at the sound of Piz's voice, offering him a small smile. "Hey."

"Outside of our total Ultimate Frisbee domination, I haven't seen you around much lately. Lots of school stuff? Cases?"

She nodded. "Yeah, that. And being stuck here enough hours a week to stay fed and clothed." She indicated the library around her with a roll of her eyes.

"Well, at any rate, if you are free this Friday, and by free I mean can spare 45 minutes to an hour, me and the boys are playing in a battle of the bands, and I'd, uh, really love it if you came." Nervously twisting to reach into the front pocket of his old and practically bursting book bag, he pulled out a rumpled flyer, and then placed it on her counter, frantically trying to smooth it out with his hands. "Sorry, it's the last one."

With a half-shrug and a half-smile, he scooted it her way.

She took it, letting her eyes dart over the text. "Serpentine? Isn't that a venue in San Diego?"

"Yeah, the street address is at the bottom. I can get you directions if you'd like."

"No, no, I know where it is. Thanks, though."

Grinning at her, bashfully, Piz could barely contain the excitement in his voice. "So you'll be there?"

She smiled, her mind already mid-plot, "Yeah, maybe."

* * *

"Mind if I sit?" Logan's voice suggested that he wasn't really asking, and so Wallace wasn't particularly surprised he didn't get a chance to respond before a tray was set down across from him and his best friend's ex slid into the open chair. 

Secretly and truthfully, Wallace had actually started to like Logan. Ever since their egg-drop partnership he'd decided, that just maybe, there was more to the young Echolls than his initial crowbar-toting impression had let on. And over the summer, when he himself had been so busy with basketball camps, babysitting his little brother and other stuff of his own, he'd been grateful Logan was around. Veronica needed someone to lean on after that night on the roof of the Grande, whether she admitted it or not. And when he couldn't be there, it was good to know that Logan was.

But Wallace had never seen Veronica really break down and cry. Even when she told him about Shelly's party, and what Duncan had told her about being his sister. Even when she explained to him that for an entire night she truly thought her dad was dead. He had never seen her let herself go…until two days ago. And then, she didn't just cry. She'd sobbed into his side, like if she didn't get every last tear out of her she'd drown in them.

No longer was Wallace a big fan of Logan's. And he was trying very hard to let his scowling face say that for him, as he stared at the taller boy across the table.

"I take it, from the rather deadly glare you have going on, that you don't like me much anymore, Wally. And that's cool. But I hope you know, I never would've hurt her intentionally. And since she won't look at me, or talk to me, without lashing out with her most razor sharp tongue, I'm asking you…how is she?"

Wallace sniffed at the air, irritated with the arrogance that Logan Echolls oozed without even trying, pissed at the too casual inquiry about one of the most important people on earth to him. He could feel heat in his cheeks, and while he knew Veronica was far from okay, he quickly decided he wouldn't give the asshole the satisfaction of the truth. "How is she?! Man, you've got some nerve. How do you think she is? She's Veronica freaking Mars, and she's fine. You think that girl would take on the world, and walk away unscathed, just to be broken by a punk like you?"

Rolling his eyes so hard they hurt, he began collecting his stuff to storm away, but something in the other boy's voice stopped him. This time there was no smug and self-satisfied sarcasm, no patronizing bite. There was just hurt and honesty when Logan whispered.

"She's so far from unscathed it's heartbreaking."

Wallace stilled, swallowing hard, letting Logan know to continue, though he wouldn't look in his eyes.

"I don't think I broke her. And if I did I certainly wouldn't be proud of it. All I've ever wanted was to protect her, long enough for her to put her own pieces back together. I love-love**_d_** her, and I would still do anything, **_anything_**, to make sure she's okay. So I'm asking you please, more for her than for me, to keep me in the loop. She never has to know."

Wallace finally looked up again to find pleading in Logan's brown eyes. His jaw was set, and he was determined, but he was also desperate, and damn it if Wallace didn't understand exactly how it felt to worry about Veronica.

"Fine. You're in the loop. But Logan," he sighed, "don't make me regret it."

* * *

"MacAttack!" Veronica's face lit up and she pushed herself off the hallway wall as her friend exited the main computer lab. "How was work as the campus' hottest computer help go-to girl?" 

"Horrible. If I have to explain to one more freshman why the network firewall blocks their porn access, I just might switch majors. Maybe to Physics…I don't think they make those geeks talk to other people."

Veronica laughed lightly, giving a nod. She was often very glad to have a friend more jaded and misanthropic than she was. "So what are you and your fella' doing Friday night?"

"Um…don't know yet. Why, do you have something in mind?"

"Yeah. Piz's band is playing in San Diego and I was thinking of driving up, thought you and Bronson might want to join me."

Mac's eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. "Piz? As in Wallace's goofy but endearing roommate who has been shamelessly crushing on you since you met?"

"Yes, Piz, Wallace's roommate. As for the rest of what you said, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Mac rolled her eyes, not understanding how Veronica could be so observant about everything but boys and how they felt about her. "Well, I will have to check and make sure Bronson doesn't have plans already, but I'm in."

Veronica's eyes brightened. "Great. Oh, and, is there anyway you could help with some gadget-y stuff sometime this week?"

"Sure, no problem Anything fun?" She studied her friends face, noting Veronica's hesitation.

"Just your basic bug and a small tracking device."

Mac was opening her mouth to inquire further when she noticed her roommate bounding towards them, large smile in place.

"Hey, gal pals, what's going on?" Parker looked eager and hopeful.

"Just some shop talk." Veronica answered quickly, panicked eyes darting briefly from Parker to Mac and back again. She sighed. "Well, I should go, I have a killer paper for Profiling due next week and if I don't force myself to start researching now I'm screwed. See you guys later. Thanks again, Mac." She forced her lips to curl slightly before making her exit, trying not to notice the hurt expression on Parker's face.

* * *

"I don't get it, V. If your dad told you specifically, and adamantly, not to get involved, and the state is using every available resource, including your father, who we both know is extremely competent, why are you going anywhere near it?" 

Veronica stopped picking at her breakfast and leaned across the table conspiratorially, looking at Wallace as if it should be obvious. "Because I'm me. And 8 girls have disappeared in 3 months time. They have found no bodies, heard of no ransoms, received no mocking letters or taunting threats; it doesn't fit into any normal criminal patterns. I want to know who's taking these girls, and why. Maybe the case would get solved without me, but what does it hurt for me to try?" She pulled back, sifting through the files she had spread out, including a copy of all the police reports and every press release she could find on the missing girls as she took another bite of her eggs.

"It could hurt_ you_, Veronica. These girls all look like you."

"Exactly why they just might need my help." She continued to avert her eyes purposefully.

Wallace shook his head, his face and tone drenched with obvious worry. "V, this isn't because of_ everything_ else going on, is it?"

She fought the urge to glare at him; it was futile to put up fronts with him anymore. He knew the truth now. Sighing she glanced back to his face. "That isn't the only reason, it's not even the main reason. But yes, I want something to throw myself into. Something big and challenging and important enough to keep my mind focused on it. All the time."

Wallace nodded, knowing he couldn't fight her on it…not if he wanted to at least be in the know on what she was up to. "So what's your plan?"

"I'm not sure yet, I'm trying to get something worked out by Friday. Are you going to Piz's band's gig?"

Wallace gave her a sharp nod, studying her face in question.

"Good. I might need you there."

He noticed her voice trail off slightly as her eyes moved behind him, widening in an uncharacteristically fearful way. He was about to turn to find out what could possibly scare the great Veronica Mars when he heard a familiar voice.

"Veronica, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Wallace looked over his shoulder at the tall, blonde form of Parker Lee, before shifting back to look at his best friend. She was shuffling things around, and he knew she wanted to bolt, but he could see that she was struggling to find a legitimate reason. She was on campus, early in the morning, making it obvious she had no where to be before her first class….which wasn't for another hour and a half. But before she could open her mouth to force out some obvious lie, Wallace cut in, pushing past the bone-chilling Veronica glare he received as a result. "I was just leaving, Parker. You can take my spot."

He picked up his tray and slipped his bag onto his shoulder. Pausing at Veronica's side, nudged her gently. "Call me later, V."And then he left the two alone…hoping they both made it out alive.

After muttering something along the lines of "traitor" at Wallace's retreating form, Veronica busied herself, piling papers and biting her lower lip, avoiding the large, pleading eyes that followed her every move.

"Veronica, please." There was no irritation, no anger in Parker's voice. The girl just sounded tired, and a little sad.

Swallowing hard, Veronica finally looked up. She'd stared down murderers and rapists. She could handle this.

"Look, I know it's got to be difficult. You and Logan were together through so much."

Veronica scoffed quietly…like this girl had any clue what she and Logan had been through, together or otherwise. Still she didn't say anything, letting Parker continue.

"And I'm sorry…I really never meant for, or expected, whatever it is between him and me to happen."

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Veronica was sure in that instant she'd cut her own arm off to keep from having to hear anymore. "Look, Parker, I-"

But she was stopped by the persistence and almost desperation in Parker's voice. "I know you knew her longer, but when Duncan and Meg-"

Then suddenly, Veronica felt her entire body tense, stiffen, straighten in defense-mode. Her eyes narrowed, her voice dangerously low as she asked, "Wait, how do you know about Duncan and Meg?"

"Well, Logan and I were talking, and…"

"Logan?"

Parker winced at the barely contained edge that had taken over Veronica's eyes. She nodded, intimidated by the smaller girl's intensity.

"We'll have to finish this some other time, Parker." Veronica snapped quickly, not even waiting for any acknowledgment. Gathering her things in a blur, she stormed out to her car, shaking her head as she went. That bastard had no idea what he was in for.

* * *

Marching through the lobby of the Neptune Grande, Veronica could feel the anger and indignation boiling inside her. She couldn't stop shaking her head, in disgust, in disbelief. He, more than any one else she knew, hated prying, and gossiping, and pitying whispers. He should have known better. 

And the elevator ride just fueled her rage on, the pompous muzak grating on her already fraying nerves. She dug to the bottom of her purse, grasping for the white key card to his suite, thankful she still had it.

At first she hadn't returned it, afraid of the awkwardness and another fight. Then, when they danced on the edge of civility for a few days, she had continued to keep it because, while she wouldn't willingly own up to it, she'd kept hoping he'd show up, in some dramatic whirl of typical-Logan passion and intensity and convince her that he was sorry, that he knew it hurt, but that they were still meant to be…epic love and all that crap.

Then she'd witnessed Parker make his eyes light up and she had been back to avoiding him, the key card the last of her worries.

However, at this moment she was very beyond glad she had it. Surprise gave her the upper hand and it wasn't like she had to worry about walking in on something she didn't want to see. She'd left Parker dumbfounded in the food court of Hearst.

Sliding in the card ceremoniously, pushing in and then letting the main door to the suite bang and clang closed behind her, she smiled at the noise it made. That'd help wake the asshole up.

She only thought long enough about the fact that Dick might also be there and sleeping to realize that she most definitely didn't care.

She slid the doors to Logan's room open, again making it a point to make as much noise as possible, and then took her battle stance at the edge of his bed.

She watched him stir, and watched his face carefully as he peaked out to see her there. If he was surprised he didn't show it. He sat up groggily, the sheet slipping down his naked torso and for perhaps the very first time ever she didn't shutter at the sight of his broad and muscular back and shoulders. She was too angry to care that he was beautiful.

"Why would you talk to _her_ about me? Why!" Her voice was fierce and demanding even if it wasn't that loud.

Sleep still squinting his eyes, he looked at her sideways. His tone of voice reminded her of over a year ago, when they were pretending to hate one another, hoping to hurt each other until the longing went away. "It's early, and you're pissy. Let's turn the clarity up a notch and use less pronouns to save some time."

She bit the inside of her cheek, pursing her lips out in annoyed frustration. "Parker. She just ambushed me, wanting to talk about Duncan and Meg. I believe she was building up to ask why the last time my friend date my ex I took it a little more gracefully."

When Logan only nodded she felt her anger grow.

"How dare you discuss_ my_ past with someone I barely know? If I want her, or anyone for that matter, to know about my trials and tribulations from back at Neptune High, _I_ will tell them. You have no right."

Finally reacting, he rolled his eyes as he stood from the bed and turned to her, ready to bite. "Actually, I kind of do. It's called freedom of speech, Veronica. Maybe you've heard of it? We're kind of big on it here in these United States." He blew past her, picking up a shirt from the back of the chair and slipping it over his head before staring right back at her. "And in case you've forgotten, they were my friends too."

She scoffed, shaking her head again. "Yeah, because when Duncan started dating Meg, the way I handled it had so much to do with your friendships." She fixed him with her deadliest glare, her jaw flexed and her cheeks flushed in her anger. "Do me a favor, Logan. When talking to your new _little_ girlfriend, stick to topics you actually know something about: Surfing, gambling, adulteress gold-diggers, and mixing cocktails. Leave me out of it." She turned, head high and shoulders squared as she strode to the door.

Logan growled, he was sick of her having the last word, and was right on her heels the whole way. "Are you insinuating that I don't know _you_, Veronica? Because if you are, then you are really off your game. I **know** you. The way your mind thinks. The way your insides work. The way you run and hide. I know you. Probably better than anyone else."

She spun at him, surprising him into taking the slightest step back. They were so close and he could feel the anger flowing off her. It was hot waves and tense shoulders and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this was exactly why he still loved her. And then he saw the tears blurring at the edges of her eyes and he swallowed hard, afraid of what she'd do next. "If you knew me at all, then you would have known exactly what being with Madison, what dating Parker, would do to me, but did it anyway. That would mean you're a much crueler person than I thought you were anymore.Vicious and spiteful, like the Logan I used to hate."

He was speechless, as he felt his chest constrict painfully, watching a single tear run down her cheek. She took a deep breath, and then gave him a look, very reminiscent of one he'd seen before, as the elevator closed to take her away, the morning after the Alterna-Prom. "But you know what, maybe hating you would make this easier."

Then she was gone, and he didn't bother to fight the tears burning at the inside of his own eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Life Goes On…

Chapter 4: Dangerous Liaisons

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

_Sometimes I feel like I'm backwards. Reversed. Twisted and inside out._

_I don't crash and burn. I burn. And then I crash. _

_It's the calm **after** the storm I fear the most. _

_And well, most people would probably tell you I run before I walk; I run before I do just about anything…_

* * *

"You wanna do what?!" Weevil's voice rose, disbelief punctuating his glare. He looked older to her, tired and worried, leaning against the Mars' kitchen counter.

"Look, this Battle of the Bands is a big deal. Serpentine is going to be packed. And all of the abductions so far have happened at San Diego clubs on the nights of crowded events. Concerts. Wet T-Shirt Contests. Celebrity Showcases. Stuff that brings college girls out in large, yet irresponsible, numbers. There's a good chance whoever is kidnapping these girls will be there Friday, and I want to make sure no one else gets taken."

He looked at her like she'd lost her mind or gained a head. "By putting yourself in danger? V, you can't be serious. These guys are too good. According to the news, the police have no suspects, practically no leads. It's too risky."

"That's the point. They have nothing to go on, no one to go after. That's why I need to do this. Get _them_ to come to us. And yes, okay, so it's risky, but that's why I've got a plan. And that's why I need you there in case something goes wrong." She gave him a stern but pleading look, and when he rolled his eyes and sighed heavily she knew she had him.

"Alright, fine. So what's this plan again?"

* * *

Veronica was beyond relieved when, after her third nervous glance at Mac's dorm door, her friend assured her that Parker was home in Colorado for the next few days and therefore the chances of her bursting in were damn near none.

Taking a deep breath she faced Mac, ready to get down to business, prepared to explain away any worries as she divulged her plan for the case, but she stopped when she saw Mac eyeing her carefully, clearly wanting to say something. She sighed. She usually enjoyed witnessing the care with which people approached her, liking that even though she was small she'd done something right in the intimidation department. But not when it was one of her friends, the few people that she let in and trusted. She feared becoming _that _unavailable. "Mac, if you want to ask me something, go ahead. I won't bite."

Mac smiled slightly as she nodded. She should have known Veronica would see the curiosity all over her face, but she still wasn't exactly sure how to approach the topic. Their friendship had not been founded on girl talk. "So, Parker mentioned trying to talk to you."

Veronica just looked at her, hoping that it sufficed as confirmation.

"And she mentioned you storming off, obviously upset with Logan, and that since then, for reasons he will not divulge, Logan has barely been able to look at her, or talk to her, or, from what she can gather, get out of bed."

Veronica's eyebrows furrowed, confused and worried by this bit of information, but then remembering she was still quite angry with him, she pushed all emotion-indicating expressions off her face and shook her concerns away.

"So, I guess what I want to ask is, are you okay? What happened? Do I need to go kick him or something?"

Veronica allowed the slight smile tugging on her lips. The mental visual she had of Mac kicking Logan was pretty funny. But then she sighed. She really didn't want to talk about it, to rehash something that still made her fingers clench in a violent swirl of feelings she preferred not to have, but she also didn't want Mac to think she didn't trust her, that she didn't want to confide in her.

After breaking to pieces in front of him a few nights before, Wallace had gently reminded her that good friends were assets, not weaknesses, and she'd vowed to try harder to treat them as such. She supposed letting down her guard was as good a way as any to start. "Parker wanted to talk, I guess about how I'd been avoiding her, him, everything. And really, on a side note, I was kind of surprised that she came to me. I always got the impression I scared her just a little bit."

She paused as Mac snorted. "Oh, don't worry, that girl is terrified of you, she must have been feeling particularly lucky or something. And that's probably why she did it in public. More witnesses."

Veronica couldn't fight the tiniest grin at that, but then it faded as she pressed on. "But she started to bring up Duncan and Meg. And instantly I felt sucker punched. I don't want people to know more about me than what I tell them…I know that's ridiculously hypocritical considering how I plow through other people's lives, but that doesn't make it any less true. And the idea of Logan, talking about me, to her, I just snapped. I felt angry and bitter and nauseous and I couldn't stop myself from going there, knowing if I slowed down at all I'd cry and maybe even think about my answer to the question she was going to ask, and I didn't want that, I wanted an outlet. So I went and we fought, after all, that's the one thing we're consistently good at. I guess-" she shrugged, letting the sentence end early and fall away.

Mac gave a sympathetic half-smile. She knew Veronica was going against her very nature even sharing this little bit, but she couldn't help but press her luck. "May _I_ dare to ask the question though? You know, ask just what the difference is? Between Logan and Parker, and Duncan and Meg? I have some ideas, but I'd rather hear it from you."

Veronica suddenly found her hands very interesting. "I'm not entirely sure. I mean first off, the situations are different. Duncan and me had been broken up for quite a while. Over a year. And he'd dated other girls before…not as seriously, but a few dates here and there. So I'd had the chance to become accustomed. Not to mention I was pretty numb at that point and had bigger things on my plate. Murder investigations and all that." She paused, taking a few breaths, praying Mac would indicate she no longer cared to listen, or that she wanted no more explanation. When she saw the brunette still watching her intently, she bravely continued. "And secondly, Meg and Parker are different, especially in relation to me. Parker and I really don't know each other that well. It may sound awful, but we were like almost-friends. We were only anything at all because she lived with you. I like her. She's sweet and she's fun, but she doesn't get me. Not that many people do. But Meg had been a friend, even after everyone else turned their backs. She'd been a friend in difficult circumstances so I knew I could really trust her. And maybe Logan doesn't remember, but I didn't take her and Duncan well at first either. But Meg persisted, and I felt like I really owed it to her to try." Veronica could feel Mac's eyes on the side of her face as she traced her fingers along the edge of the desk, and when she spoke again her voice was low. "But I guess, my reservation in thinking about it is that I might the difference between then and now isn't really either of those things. I'm afraid that what matters is _them_. The boys. That maybe, Logan-"

"Logan means more to you now than Duncan did then?" Mac finished, seeing the discomfort coloring her friends cheeks, the pain and confusion clouding her eyes.

Veronica shrugged so slightly Mac almost didn't notice.

It was quiet a moment, Veronica obviously lost in thoughts she hadn't wanted to be having, and Mac wondering what it must be like to feel the need to be so strong all the time. Finally, pushing a lock of wavy blue hair behind her ear, she offered a small and purposeful smile to her friend. "So, tell me again… you want me to put a tracking device in where exactly?"

Her smile widened at the relief that lit up Veronica's face as the blonde quickly fell back into work mode, her voice even and strong, her eyes bright and energetic.

* * *

Logan cringed at the hesitant, but not necessarily soft, knock on the door to the penthouse. His head hurt from too little rest, too much sleep, too little to eat and way too much to drink. And with Parker gone for the rest of the week, he was sure whoever was knocking at his door didn't really want to talk to him anyway.

Maybe they were looking for Dick.

He thought about shouting for whomever it was to go away, but with the way his head was feeling he felt that raising his voice beyond a whisper might burst something important, so warily he pushed himself up off the couch and begrudgingly made his way to the door.

He was very surprised to see Wallace, hands stuffed deep into pockets, standing nervously before him.

Without a word he backed away, holding the door open for his visitor to enter, hoping that it wouldn't be bad news that brought him, but knowing better.

Any and all possibilities of a friendly call from Wallace had vanished when he'd broken, however unintentionally, his best friend's heart.

Still silent, he indicated the couch with a wave of his hand and went to go get a glass of water from the bar. And five more aspirin if he could find them.

Wallace busied himself, looking around the apartment, wringing his hands, clearing his throat. Once Logan had settled down on the arm of the opposite end, popping the pills in his mouth and swallowing with a large gulp of water, Wallace stilled himself and looked directly into Logan's eyes.

"Have you heard about the girls, disappearing in San Diego clubs?"

Logan shrugged, rubbing his temples lightly before answering. "A bit here and there, mostly on the radio. Having been involved in most of the area's bigger stories for the past couple years, I tend to avoid the News these days."

"Well, 8 girls have gone missing. All of them pretty and young, tiny blondes with big personalities."

Logan nodded. He'd heard the girls were around his age, and that they were the type that a friend might think she'd just hooked up for the night and not worry until later. He didn't realize they all looked the same. That they all looked like Veronica.

"The cops are freaking out. No one's really been interrogated; they don't even know where to start. They've got no leads. No motive. Not a tip or taunt or demand."

Again Logan moved his head slightly to show that he understood, eager for Wallace to get to the part that he knew was coming, as he could feel his already queasy stomach knotting and twisting more and more in dread.

"Despite Mr. Mars' request that she stay away, Veronica has decided to take on the case."

Logan felt something drop in his chest, even though he knew that wasn't the worst news. "Please tell me she isn't…"

Wallace nodded somberly. "She's planning on going to a club tomorrow and playing the part. She wants them to come after her."

Logan winced, momentarily struggling to breathe. He put his head in his hands, thinking of her unknowingly working along side the Dean's murderer, her facing the rapists, drugged and alone, her cowering on the roof in front of Cassidy, sobbing for the father she thought she'd lost. _He_ could barely take the memories of her pain, how could _she_ be so willing to put herself out there in danger's reach again?

"She thinks she's got her bases covered. She had Mac put an audio bug and a tracking device into this bracelet-thing she's going to wear. Then Mac and Bronson are going to set up outside, keeping an ear open for anything suspicious and so they know where she is at all times. She's got Piz, who'll be on stage for most of it, Weevil, and me coming in to keep an actual eye on her, to be her muscle. We'll have earpieces connected to the audio but she's made it explicitly clear that we aren't to make a move until she's sure it's the right guys. Which is the part of the plan both I am most wary of. And then she just wants to wait for them to come to her."

Logan's aching brain was racing. His voice displayed blatant annoyance when he asked, "Piz? And Weevil?"

Wallace shook his head. "I know. Piz would be little to no help in defending her if that's what it came down to, but it's his gig and he insisted he wanted to be involved…even though the boy looks like he's never lifted anything heavier than his guitar in his life." He was careful not to mention that in his pleas for involvement Piz had finally confessed to Wallace what they all knew concerning his feelings for Veronica; Logan punching Piz out wouldn't help anyone. As an afterthought he added. "I'm actually really glad she included Weevil." Noting Logan's surprised and somewhat disgusted expression, Wallace hurried to continue. "I know that he really hasn't done much to win either of us over, what with the duct taping me to a flagpole and all the punching and jumping he's done to you, but at the end of the day, it's obvious he cares about V. He'd never let anybody hurt her. And she trusts him. You know how rare that is."

Logan sniffed at the understatement as he stared sternly downward.

Wallace stayed quiet a moment, taking in Logan's body language. He was hunched over, his eyes so dark with thought. The room was dimly lit but Wallace thought he saw the glimmer of tears running off his clenching jaw.

When Logan spoke, his voice was scratchy, inside and out, and Wallace wasn't entirely sure whether he meant it to be aloud. "Is she trying to get herself killed? Does she honestly think she's invincible?"

He was about to answer when Logan turned to him, eyes piercing, dangerous and desperate, "We have to tell Keith."

Eyes widening, Wallace shook his head adamantly. "No, man, we can't."

And he jumped with surprise when Logan's voice shouted across the room, "And why the hell not?!"

Logan took a slow, deep breath before continuing, but even though his voice lowered it shook with emotion. "We can't let her do this. She'll get hurt, or worse. I know she still plays nice with you, but I'm used to her being pissed at me by now. I don't think I could get so used to her being dead." He was looming, using his practiced hardness to try and intimidate the shorter boy, but Wallace would have none of it.

"We can't stop her. And you know he can't either. When she's got her mind set on something, nothing can change it. She'll find a way, if not this plan tomorrow, some other plan next week. And if we tell, if we get him involved, we'll lose her trust. And the next time she decides to put herself in danger, we won't know until it's too late. I can't risk that. I won't."

"Then why did you come here? Why did you tell me if you expect me to sit here and do not--" Logan stood, his voice rising again and building with frantic anxiety, before Wallace calmly cut him off.

"Because you wanted in the loop. And because I was hoping you would be there tomorrow. One more set of eyes. Just in case."

Sinking down, Logan nodded, defeated. Wallace made his way to the door, not even turning around when he heard Logan speak again. "If anything happens to her…"

Wallace sounded stronger than he felt. "We won't let anything happen to her."

* * *

Veronica stood in front of the mirror, inspecting herself carefully and barely recognizing what she found. A soft giggle escaped her lips when she realized how happy the sight before her would have made Lilly. The excess of skin on display and the very limited amount of clinging fabric would have made the older girl laugh loud and long with delight, as she informed Veronica how very 'come and get it' she looked. And while her current manner of dress was a far cry from her own usual sense of self and style, it was exactly what she was hoping for tonight. Moving her hips slightly to the music she had blaring through the tiny apartment, she puckered her lips out playfully, then winked and wiggled a finger alluringly, remembering the coy poses she and her best friend would strike as they danced around their childhoods. It was times like these when she missed Lilly the most… the moments when she could forget for a second that she wasn't a normal 19-year-old girl. Before the murders and rapes and attacks of the past caught back up to her and she realized she wasn't dressed to impress for a night of fun or freedom, but for a case, where the lives of several girls could hang in the balance.

Suddenly she stood there still, missing Lilly so much it hurt. And she remembered she wasn't like any other 19-year-old on the planet.

* * *

Walking in to Mac's room to meet her motley crew of an undercover team, even though she'd braced herself for the looks of disbelief and/or dismay at her choice of wardrobe for the evening, she hadn't quite prepared herself enough. Mac looked like she was going to burst into pieces from (unsuccessfully) holding in laughter, while Bronson stood at her side with his eyebrows raised as high as they could possibly go. Piz's jaw was somewhere on the floor, potentially drooling all over the carpet, while Wallace looked absolutely horrified, like he wanted to wrap her in a robe as quickly as possible and whisk her far away from anyone with eyes.

And Weevil just looked very, very uncomfortable.

"If any of you say a single word about _this_," she paused to motion along her body as her eyes narrowed defensively, "tonight, or ever again, I will taser you until you are weeping like children and begging for my mercy, got me?"

A series of nods rippled around the room as she looked at each of her friends in turn.

"Good." Just as she was about to open her mouth to rehash the plan one last time, a confident knock sounded and without waiting for a reply, the door opened to reveal Logan.

"Parker?"

Waiting for the predictable roll of Veronica's eyes, Logan took the opportunity to nod and shoot meaningful glance at Wallace before angry blue eyes returned to him.

"What are you doing here?" her voice was laced with blatant irritation and perhaps something even more dangerous.

"Um, looking for my _girlfriend_. 'Cause she actually, you know, lives here."

Mac noticed her best friend's fists clenching as she stepped the slightest bit between the ex-lovers. "Parker's in Colorado for the weekend, remember?"

"Oh, Huh." Logan nodded casually, never once taking his stare away from Veronica's. If he hadn't been known for being so nonchalant about things it might have given away the he had been fully aware of Parker's absence when he'd walked in. "Hey, is there a reason you're dressed like a prostitute? Really that desperate for the next victim, uh, I mean boyfriend?"

She just glared in response.

"Or that's not really the Mars style, is it? Blatant seduction is too normal, too easy. You might end up with a guy who's never been wanted for murder or kidnapping that way, and where is the fun in that? So, let me guess, you are going out for a case? Looking all slutty to lure some bad guy in?"

Her glare deepened, and her jaw set so tight he thought it had to have been hurting her teeth.

He nodded, his expression still carefully even, as if completely unaware of her deathly stare. "Well, in that case, since my Friday evening is now almost pathetically free, I think I'll tag a long."

He barely counted past two in his head before her eyes widened with surprise and then re-narrowed in fury.

"No, you are not."

He took a large step closer to her, right into her personal space, not even noticing that Mac had to backtrack hastily to get out of his way. His expression didn't darken or change, but his voice was resolute and solid. "Yes. I am."

"If you think for one seco-" He could see her gearing up for what would probably have been an impressive rant of sharp jabs and deep-cutting remarks in order to not only leave him behind, but leave him in tears, but instead he deftly cut her off before she had a chance to get going, his gaze defiant and his voice deceptively calm.

"Veronica, I know you probably hate me right now. Hell, you may hate me forever, and frankly I don't care. But the thing about using bait is, you just may catch the fish, but the worm still dies on the hook. If you are about to do something stupid and dangerous, as the headband your calling a skirt would suggest, at least let me be there to make sure that doesn't happen. Remember, you can't annoy me, tiny blonde one, from 6 feet under."

He watched a thousand thoughts and feelings flicker across her pretty face. He held his breath, hoping that above everything else she thought she knew about him, she realized he'd die before letting someone hurt her. Finally her features settled indifferently, and her voice sounded bored, if it held any emotion at all. "Fine. You can tag along. But if you mess this up, you'll wishing they had killed me by the time I'm through with you."

Smirking at her, he didn't bother to back away. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Growling in frustration Veronica pushed past him, and headed for the door.

* * *

AN: Thanks so very much for reading….please take a second and review! 


	5. Chapter 5

Life Goes On…

Chapter 5: Heartbreaker

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Veronica sat in the thick of a now-awkward near-silence, her petite frame squished between a bored and uncomfortable looking Weevil, and an _obviously_ nervous and uncomfortable Wallace. Piz, though similarly inconvenienced physically, seemed unaware, or at least unconcerned, with the car's emotional tensions, as he stared out the window from his spot at his roommate's other side, humming quietly.

The front seat of Logan's Range Rover didn't look much more at ease, with Mac pressed tightly to her boyfriend's side, seemingly careful not to touch Logan in anyway. Despite her lingering loner vibes, Mac apparently understood sisterhood and loyalty and all that crap, even at the risk of losing feeling in her arm.

Veronica felt her eyes roll at the memory of her ex insisting on driving tonight, claiming that taking multiple cars was asking to get separated just when having strength in numbers might matter the most. Although she had several arguments against this, only one of which having anything to do with her not wanting to be in the same state as him, let alone the same car, she could see his point and as stubborn as he was, it would have been a waste of time for her to fight him on it. Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't going to make it perfectly clear that she was, at best, severely annoyed with him. Glaring at the back of Logan's head, she distracted herself from the knotting of her stomach and the sweating of her palms by thinking of all the ways she could get back at him. Not only for the unpleasant car ride, but for having the audacity to insist on joining them at all.

It would be easier to hate him if she could convince herself he no longer cared, or that maybe he never really did.

At the slightest hint of moisture at the edge of her eyes, she abruptly decided that thinking about Logan, even in the most vengeful of contexts, was bound to get her into trouble, so she forced her focus back on to the case at hand. Trying her best to keep her left shoulder from falling asleep as it crushed at an unnatural and painful angle into Weevil's side, she twisted her body to face his, and almost sighed as the feeling returned to her arm.

"V, I know your dressed the part, but it's awful slutty to try and seduce me in a car full of people."

Veronica's eyes narrowed. "Oh, if I was out to seduce you, the word _try_ wouldn't be anywhere near it. The degree of my sluttiness and who was around would be irrelevant."

An amused grin lightening his usually hardened features, Weevil laughed loudly. "That's probably true, Mars. Probably true."

Feeling her face relax and a burst of giggles in her gut, Veronica smiled and looked away from the chuckling ex-gangster, thankful for the moment of pleasant distraction, just in time to see a pained expression cross Logan's face in the rearview mirror.

And suddenly all her relief was gone.

* * *

Spilling out of the Range Rover, there was a chorus of groans and sighs as limbs reasserted themselves as contributing members of the body, and necks rolled and cracked to ease their stiffness. Stopping her eclectic crew of helpers from dispersing too quickly in their rush to distance themselves from each other, Veronica took on her most commanding voice as she rattled off last minute instructions. Mac and Bronson were to set up in the quietest corner they could find, and use carefully choreographed public displays of fondness to conceal their otherwise secret-agent-y behaviors. Wallace, Weevil and Logan were to run interference and play watchdogs. Any other girls that fit the profile were to be chatted up, and kept away from anyone potentially dangerous. But they also were to have Veronica in at least their peripheral sight at all time. She had looked sternly at Logan when she said this, digging in with how easily distracted he's known to get around blondes. Piz was to go about his band's business, unless trouble broke out. Then she expected rock star fantasies to take a back seat to nabbing the bad guy.

No one was to make a move until she said the code word.

Lastly, she told them all to be alert and careful, but they all seemed to understand that was mainly a mantra for herself. And with a deep breath, she turned, taking Wallace by the crook of his arm, and lead the way into battle.

* * *

An hour in, the club was packed. In between acts a DJ had been brought in to keep the dancing going, and with the electronica-remix of the latest Justin Timberlake tune and the first band's "punk" cover of "Like a Virgin" merging obnoxiously in his mind, Logan was about to stab something sharp and pointy into his own ears. He scanned the crowd for what felt like the thousandth time. Thankfully, the disappearances/abductions/or whatever was going on, must have scared the brunette back into a majority of the UCSD clubbing crowd. There were very few blondes out tonight, and those who were seemed to be towering over the other girls around them, looking anything but petite. Locking his eyes back onto the blonde he came for, his jaw clenched as two older guys, best described as slimy, attempted to _Night at the Roxbury_ the hell out of her. Instead of displaying the disgust he was sure she was feeling, she shone the undeserving pair a bright smile, and in a manner Lilly would have been most proud of, she winked playfully at the more aggressive of the two.

Logan really thought he was going to be sick and he felt his fist flexing for a good punch.

But then, thinking of what Veronica would say, what she might do if she thought he was interfering, he sighed, forcing his body to relax out of his current fight posture and shaking his head. This was going to be a long night. A very, very long night.

* * *

Veronica laughed genuinely as Wallace danced her around, making several _Save the Last Dance_ jokes as he went. At first she'd been irritated when Wallace had asked to cut in, it wasn't part of her plan after all, and what if it was at that exact moment that a move was about to be made by their perp? But after a few moments of the not being inappropriately ogled or fondled that dancing with her BFF offered, she was happy for the reprieve from the unsavory fellows she'd been surrounded by for almost two hours. It was nice to not have to swallow down her revulsion and force out a flirtatious smile for a while.

She was giggling at Wallace's face as he imitated the woohoo-ing noises of Gwen Stefani and Akon, and about to remark on how this was a much less auditorally offensive song then most of what the platinum blonde had been doing post-No Doubt, when the hair at back of her neck shot up sending a familiar tingle down her spine. Mock-casually repositioning her self with her back to Wallace, she searched through the crowd and dim as best she could while still imitating a spontaneous and carefree girl for the eyes that were apparently watching her intently. What she found both relieved and surprised her. Up on the balcony, leaning against the metal rail as if he had all the time in the world to observe her, was Weevil. His eyes looked black in the purposefully poor lighting of Serpentine, and though he gave her a slight nod to let her know he knew she knew he was watching so closely, he made no apology or sign of shame. He didn't move to break or lessen his stare. She gave him a half smile and let her eyes wander away, but it was while she was in the process of turning her body back toward Wallace that she caught another set of eyes over by the bar. Logan's eyes, though a milkier brown, too appeared dark as coals, but yet, she still thought she could see every thought and feeling passing through them, despite the dance floor full of vibrating and gyrating bodies between them. She hoped she was just imagining it, but she suspected she knew better. She could see flashes of hurt, waves of raw jealousy, and maybe even a dash of amusement. She saw the determined protective gleam she had witnessed so many times before, the look she hated and yet secretly looked for whenever she was scared. He didn't acknowledge her in anyway, but she knew he saw her reading him. And without any indication that she cared about what she saw, she turned to playfully shove Wallace away as the next band took the stage.

* * *

Her legs were starting to ache from non-stop dancing, and her nostrils burned from too many brushes with cheap and sweat-infused cologne, but Veronica would be damned before she appeared anything but wild and fun-loving tonight. As yet another over-eager and unduly arrogant _boy_, for lack of a better word, came up behind her and, without even asking, took hold of her hips, she closed her eyes a moment to steel away her gag reflex. Knowing she had to sell the care-free image for this plan to be any more than a blatant shot in the dark, she channeled Lilly as best she could and smirked over her shoulder with brazen confidence as she moved her hips skillfully, punctuating each deafening beat suggestively against the all-hands stranger behind her. The air was hot and stagnant, everywhere she looked bodies shone with perspiration and faces appeared smeared from all the alcohol. She couldn't distinguish just what the smell hanging in the air was, but it was so bad it was hard to keep from choking, but she swore to herself, with another cocky grin at the boy sliding against her, that she'd solve this case, no matter what.

* * *

Logan wandered to the railing of the upper level, where he'd undoubtedly have the best view of the dance floor. While he'd noticed Wallace now doing exactly as Veronica had instructed, chatting up the few petite blondes he could find in the club, he hadn't seen Weevil move once from his watchful perch, and could sympathize with the refusal to miss a single thing happening anywhere near their favorite PI.

Taking a swig of his drink he moved to stand at Weevil's side, not too close of course, but close enough to see his expression in the brief flashings of the strobe light. Close enough to have this talk with only slightly raised voices over the music thumping below.

Weevil's conspiring tone of voice was the only acknowledgement he gave that he was aware of Logan's proximity, or that they even knew each other at all. "If that prissy-haired punk's philandering hands go any further south, he's going to be breathing out of tubes for the rest of his life."

Merely nodding in response, Logan took another drink, gulping it down as he watched, transfixed, each and every movement Veronica made. He'd always been drawn to her for all that made her unlike any other girl he'd ever met: the sharp and unstoppable wit, her indifference to what others thought, her staggering brilliance; the way she could fix her own car and deal a mean hand of poker. But as he watched her now dancing like any other normal college girl, he was absolutely hypnotized. Even though he knew she was merely playing a part, she looked so gorgeous doing it, he couldn't help it as his breath caught a moment. Then his eyes narrowed, noting with disgust similar to that of his companion the smarmy and quite pleased-with-himself expression on the aforementioned punk's face and he wanted so badly to rush down there and pull Veronica into his own arms.

Feeling an all-too-familiar tightening in his chest, he forced himself to look away and took in Weevil for a moment instead. Arms crossed firmly in front of a broad torso, jaw set forcefully, Weevil looked ready for battle.

Though they'd never been anything better than barely-tolerable allies at their finest moments, and more often then not, were very specifically enemies, Logan could now admit that, like Wallace, he was glad Weevil was there, just in case. Still, he didn't bother to hide his general dislike for the guy as he plunged into what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation.

"So, Weevs," he paused to take a drink, dramatically smacking his lips and giving an 'ahhhh' of exaggerated refreshment before continuing. "I can't help wondering about something. I look around this place, and I know why I'm here. Why Mac and Wallace are here." He then took a moment to glare at the stage where the next of the night's competing bands were setting up, a growl creeping into his voice. "And much to my dismay, I can guess exactly why Piz is here, and I don't just mean because of his little band or whatever." Taking a moment to bring his eyes slowly back to the man at his left, Logan felt his trademark smirk coming on. "But _you_ are a mystery. I mean you sure don't look like an inconspicuous co-ed and typically, your assistance to Ms. Mars has largely been in the more law-breaking avenues. You know creeping around dark alleys and junk yards or whatever. Yet tonight, here you are, dressed as best as your janitorial salary will allow and drenched in some thuggish "look at me, I'm masculine"cologne, without any breakings or enterings on the menu. Why is that, I wonder. What are you even doing here?"

Logan tried to fight the satisfaction he felt at Weevil's clenching fists and obviously irritated tone. "I'm here because **she** asked me to be. Unlike some other people."

"So now you do everything she asks?"

"When it may involve saving her life, yes I do. It's called being a friend. I know loyalty and integrity aren't things you richies really subscribe to, but I'd have thought you might've at least heard of the general ideas."

Logan laughed lightly, humorlessly, before forcing seriousness across his face and raising his voice to make himself clear over the din of the club. "Are you in love with her?"

He watched the shorter man stiffen abruptly, then sigh, his eyes never leaving Veronica as he answered. "I don't know."

Logan snorted in amusement. "You don't know? I knew you were stupid, but give me a break."

Weevil's lips pursed as his dark eyes shifted to appraise the man beside him, and his resulting expression didn't particularly indicate he liked what he found. He sighed again, deeper this time, and returned his gaze to the blonde in question, scowl intensifying as some no-name, no-future co-ed had the audacity to _accidentally_ graze her ass on the dance floor. "I've thought about it. About why the girl who has accused me of practically every crime under the sun, who has the ability to get under my skin and piss me off like no other, can also tilt her head, ever so slightly, and get me to do just about anything she asks. I mean okay, she's gorgeous, and yeah, she's saved my ass as many times as she's tried to crucify it, but it has to be more than that right?" Logan watches the shadowed profile swallow hard and shake his head slightly. "But I've seen what loving Veronica Mars can do to a man. It isn't pretty. And I'm not ready to join that club just yet."

This time the laugh that escaped Logan's throat was genuinely amused, albeit bitterly. "'It isn't pretty.' Ain't that the truth." He was still smiling when he brought the now nearly empty glass to his lips, but after a moment the grin loosened and slipped from his face as his eyes clouded thoughtfully. "You know, for priding ourselves on being such very different men, we seem to certainly have similar taste in women."

Weevil took his turn to chuckle ironically, his face somewhere between nostalgic and pained. "And those women are as about as different as we are. Probably more so."

"Definitely more so. If you really know them." Logan felt the tense silence fall heavily on them after his companion's assenting nod, and he mentally stopped himself from telling Weevil just how different loving them could be.

Loving Lilly had been like believing in the smoke and the mirrors, the myths and the fantasies. It was wondrous, exciting. Yet, it could never last. Even if she had lived, it was meant to fade away.

But Veronica….

_She_ was like a drug. Like a religion. Some how mystifying you into feeling stronger and weaker at the same time. And even though the highest of highs crash and even the most devout believer's faith can falter, with Veronica you know, after just a moment without her, that you are forever doomed to be aching and alone if you can't keep her. He didn't have the heart to tell Weevil that loving her was everlasting.

Logan drained the last drops from his glass, and instantly craved another drink as he watched yet another guy fix Veronica with a captivated and hungry stare.

* * *

"Did that guy seriously just say what I think he did?"

Mac cocked a half smile as she took in her boyfriend's expression of disbelief. "Yes, I believe he did, in fact, just ask her sign."

Bronson made a brief scoffing noise as he shook his head ever so slightly, "Man, boys are dumb. Veronica's… I mean, I know she's trying to put off "look at me, I like to party" vibes, but she's not stupid and it's obvious. You don't ask a hot, smart woman her sign."

Playfully lifting an eyebrow in question, Mac tried her best to give him a jealous stare. "Oh, and what's the best way to pick up a hot and intelligent woman?"

Bronson smiled widely. "You work really hard at being a decent guy, and wait for her to show up at your PHAT meeting with her detective friend."

Mac thought her face was about to hurt at the gigantic smile she couldn't fight.

She was about to make an uncharacteristically mushy comment about his being a great deal more than decent, when something she heard over Veronica's wire caught her attention, something she had never expected to hear.

Veronica Mars was flirting. And she sounded genuine.

Quickly, Mac's eyes sought her friend out in the crowd. "What's your sign" guy was long gone, and now her friend stood smiling up at a very attractive boy, maybe a little older than they were, dressed well and smiling, almost painfully charmingly, down at Veronica. Motioning for Bronson to be very quiet, she listened eagerly to the conversation being had.

"You've got to be exhausted, you haven't stopped dancing at all tonight."

"Have you been watching me?"

Mac could hear the playfulness in Veronica's voice, and would have bet good money her head was slanted coyly to the side.

"Well, you're a pretty little blonde…you kind of stand out."

"In Southern California? Four out of every five girls is "a pretty little blonde", naturally or otherwise."

The pleasant boy chuckled a little before answering, apparently appreciative of the uniquely Veronica brand of wit. "Maybe _gorgeous_ would be the better description. And that's a lot harder to come by…especially without a boyfriend circling around her possessively."

"Hmph. I don't know about gorgeous, but there's definitely a lack of boyfriend here."

Mac couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in surprise. Veronica was a good actress, when it came to her cases probably one of the most believable Mac had ever seen, but she'd gotten pretty good at picking up on her bullshitting voice…and this wasn't it.

"So, Gorgeous, you got a name?"

And then Veronica Mars actually giggled. "I do in fact have a name. It's Veronica. But now that you mention it, I'm thinking of having it changed to Gorgeous. I kinda like the sound of that."

Mac was sure that if she was to seek out Logan at this moment she'd see the very definition of envy displayed across his face.

"I don't know, Veronica sounds awfully good to me. Good enough to say it, maybe some place quieter? Less crowded?"

She could hear the pause, as if the usually quick-tongued Veronica was actually struggling to come up with a reason to explain her refusal, and she was about to turn to Bronson, surprised, when a blaring high-pitched frizz of static assaulted her ears.

Struck immediately with unease, she again looked to the dance floor and was panicked to find Veronica not only absent from the space she'd been just a moment before, but apparently absent from the dance floor in general. She'd been so caught off guard by Veronica's unusually girl-ish moment, she'd almost forgotten why they were there. And remembering how he'd been so acutely aware of Veronica's petite, blonde-ness, she couldn't shake a crashing wave of nauseous dread. She could spot Wallace, pushing his way through the crowd, in a similar search, and glancing up to where Logan and Weevil had stationed themselves, she saw that they too were frantically scanning the club and their wide and fear-filled eyes suggested they had not seen her either.

Pulling the still buzzing piece from her ear in a growl of frustration, and with a muttering of "fuck" followed by several prayerful pleas, Mac opened her laptop swiftly, switching on the tracking part of Veronica's bracelet and hoping with everything in her it was just a false alarm.

But, a significant part of her new better.

TBC….

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading, and I truly appreciate all the reviews…and as I feel like, after last night, I might really not love the romantic developments of the next few weeks' new episodes, I might be writing this story faster as a means to distract myself from the awful Pizeronica-ness 


	6. Chapter 6

Life Goes On….

Chapter 6: Take Good Care of My Baby….

Disclaimer: Not mine … the sound of distant weeping

Author's Note: Okay, people seem completely thrown by my Weevil-Veronica what-not last chapter, which is a surprise to me. Rest assured, I'm a fan of her and Logan, all the way, but I definitely think there's some tension between Weevil and our feisty little heroine. It's not like the unwavering platonic relationship she has with Wallace, there's _something_ there between them. Maybe just a lingering possibility, maybe a weird dream they've never shaken off. And I don't think the show would ever do anything with it, I don't think the_ characters_ would ever do anything with it, but I do believe it's there.

At any rate, thanks for the feedback, and I hope it didn't turn anyone off from the story… & thanks for reading!!!

Also, I'm sorry if my gizmo-techie mumbo jumbo is incorrect and therefore distracting, I know nothing about spy-gear and am just trying to make it **not** sound like a fifth grader wrote it. Thanks!

* * *

"This can't be happening…" Mac's face was flushed as she tried desperately to pick up the tracking signal from Veronica's bracelet. The sensor was indicating she was still on the property, but every second that they searched the dance floor with no success, panic settled deeper into her stomach. Her eyes burned from being held open so wide with all the smoke hanging in the air around her, and she could feel her mouth being stuffed full with hot and tasteless metaphorical cotton. 

Rushing to meet the others, with Bronson right on her heels, Mac tried to get her computer-wizard mojo pumping, tried to formulate the next step, all while ignoring the nagging feeling that this Q was pretty useless without her Bond.

* * *

Veronica took in her surroundings with the eye of a detective, even while her hands were tied behind her like a prisoner's and the gag that silenced her cut into the corners of her mouth. She was in the back of a utility van, judging by the lack of seats and the partition separating her from the cab. They weren't moving yet, and she could hear voices that sounded like they were just outside. She strained her ears in an attempt to listen to what was being said, but everything was muffled and lost through the metal panel. 

She took a deep breath. She knew she should be scared, or at the very least a little worried, but she couldn't help but think that she'd been in far more troubling situations than being bound, and alone, in the back of a menacing stranger's van. There were definitely worse things, like being held at gunpoint on rooftops. And being trapped in flame-encircled freezers. This time she at least had several people who were probably tracking her right now, ready and willing to save the day. Veronica Mars could handle this. No problem.

So why couldn't she stop shaking?

* * *

Wallace led the way out of the chaotic club and took deep breaths as they stepped out into the night. After several trips around the entire club, and checking all bathrooms and alcoves multiple times, his lungs were starting to heave in a most unpleasant way, and he felt that forcing them to calm, even just slightly, was in his best interest. He'd never hyperventilated before, but he was sure he wouldn't enjoy it. All the same, he didn't sound any calmer as he shouted to no one in particular. "How did this happen?! We were being so careful. We _have_ to find her. Fast." 

"Mac, any luck yet on the tracking?" Logan's hand was rapidly rushing through his hair and his eyes pleaded for good news. He'd lived through Veronica being in danger before, but it wasn't something that got any easier with repetition.

"It was supposed to be just a safety precaution, it's not as sophisticated as some more expensive models. It's coordinates are about the size of a New York City block, so not terribly specific. And it's still registering her as "here." Which, as we all can attest, is not true. And they surely have had time to drive several miles in any direction by now? Maybe he removed the bracelet? Or it broke…I'm not sure what went wrong with the bug yet, but all audio cut out right as we lost sight of her."

"What if she is still _here_? A backroom, maybe? An upstairs loft? The parking garage, that'd be in its range, right?"

Several eyes looked, surprised, as Weevil waited, appearing deceptively calm, for answers to his questions.

"I guess so…"

"Then why are we just standing here? We have to try and think like V. She sure as hell would be doing _something_ if it were one of us." His face set in stern expectance, he cocked his eyebrow as an invitation for suggestions.

Thankful that someone was finally taking charge, offering a way out of their situation, they quickly decided to split up. Mac and Bronson ran off to ask about any possible private rooms or annexes in the club. Logan, Wallace and Weevil went to spread out and check the various levels of the garage and the neighboring lots.

Without a word, each went their own way, fists ready and fight face on, Logan silently chanting the only prayer he's ever known. "Please God, let her be okay."

* * *

Ears still perked up in alert, hoping to catch any type of telling noise, Veronica worked at the ties around her wrists. Her captor had been so kind as to not use rope, so she could struggle a bit against them without digging too far into her skin. So far she'd gotten the material that was looped around her left wrist stretched slightly, but she still couldn't manage to slip her tiny hand out. She wondered briefly if any of the girls before her had even tried to escape, or if they'd all been too inebriated by the time they were shoved into the back of the van. She wondered briefly if trying would have done them any good. 

Her legs were beginning to ache from the crouching position she was in, the muscles in her thighs burning in protest. She forced herself to ignore it, concentrating all her energy on working her hands free. There wasn't the time to worry about comfort. Of course somewhere in the back of her mind she heard her legs protesting that she may need them to be able to run once she got free. And that required at least one of them to have some amount of blood flow.

Suddenly she heard an abrupt pop and whoosh, as the van's back door was pulled open. Quickly erasing all emotion from her face and shifting to keep her still struggling arms from view, she squinted into the newly arrived light.

Even before her eyes adjusted, she could make out the shapes of 3 men, one's shape she recognized as the charming young man who had lured her into danger, the other two shapes were speaking, revealing voices that sounded older and far more treacherous. They were speaking fast and easy in Spanish, so sharp and fluid that she couldn't make any of it out.

She couldn't understand anything, she couldn't even read their expressions as shadows and apathy artfully hid everything relevant. Her young abductor leered at her, simultaneously smug and appraising, and her skin prickled at the thought that she'd let him touch her at all. Discreetly, she still worked at the knotted fabric around her wrist, all the time trying to play up the appearance of wide-eyed terror she was sure they were expecting.

Finally, the figure in the middle turned to her oggler, speaking fluent English, despite the presence of a thick accent. "He likes. He's willing to pay full price….if she doesn't fight it. If she is resists and must be used as an example, he'll pay nothing."

There was a long pause, her eyes almost hurt from the strain of reading the darkened faces.

"Deal. She's smarter, and uh, more spirited than the others. But I don't think she'll give him trouble, once she has her choices explained."

She felt the weight of the eyes on her, and as she felt her left hand lifting out of the loop, almost tingling from the tightness as it pushed down her skin, she tried to conceal her movements carefully, wanting the chance to maybe hear more of what was going on before they discovered she was not about to go along with whatever they were planning.

It may have been her hopeful ear, but it sounded as if the other girls may still be alive, "choices" implied the opportunity for life, didn't it? But she still had no idea where they were, or what these men could be doing with them.

Her left hand finally free, she was still listening as her liberated fingers worked to loosen the other cuff's knot. She was listening, when a familiar voice let out an echoing shout and soon she was alone again in the darkness with a loud slam, footsteps and the squeal of tires as the now started van peeled away.

* * *

Wallace's phone was out of his pocket in a blur, dialing Logan faster than he knew possible, all while running faster than any coach had ever gotten out of him. 

"Grey van, headed down, no license plate. Hurry." He snapped his phone shut, never slowing down his pace.

* * *

Slipping into the Range Rover, Logan had it in reverse before his door shut, and making it down the next level, barely seeing the glow of the tail lights of the escaping van as it turned the corner, he paused only slightly for Weevil and Wallace to each jump in. 

The adrenaline was pushing and pulling and churning his blood through his veins in an almost-painful way, but it's what kept him from crying as he drove faster, pressing his foot on the gas as hard as he could.

He almost registered that from his space in the backseat, Wallace was barking for Mac to meet them outside and to keep an eye on the tracking.

It was with a clank and a deafening scrape that Logan's truck rolled down the sloped drive of the garage and turned onto the San Diego street, but he didn't hear it. He heard only his personal mantra of "Save Her," except for the brief interruption of Mac barking directions as she slid in beside him.

According to her readings, the van was moving south, at approximately 80 miles an hour considering how fast it was blasting through coordinates. Logan watched the display on his dashboard as he pushed until they hit 100mph, and barely recognized his own voice as he instructed Wallace to call Keith. Now.

* * *

"Wallace?" 

Keith's voice sounded heavy with sleep, but already concern was there. It couldn't be good news that had his only daughter's best friend calling him at a little after midnight.

"Where are you?"

He was up and out the door as he listened to a brief but fearful run-down of the night's events. He was already heading to the expressway by the time Wallace informed him that once again, Veronica had put a case above her own safety.

Keith Mars was driving as fast as his car would allow when he reminded himself that he could find anyone.

He was on the verge of tears as he reminded himself to breathe.

* * *

Not usually one for explicit language or heavy profanity, Veronica felt her situation merited every 'fuck,' 'damn,' and 'shit' that fell from her still-glossed, trembling lips. She could hear the whir and feel the vibrations of the van gaining more and more speed, carrying her farther and farther away from those who were there to save her. She tried to find comfort in having heard Wallace's voice, knowing that at the very least, he'd seen them pull away, but no matter how hard she concentrated on that, she didn't feel any amount of relief in her chest. Perhaps, she should have listened to her father. Perhaps, she should have listened to her friends. Maybe it_ was_ time for her to start putting her own safety first… but these were lessons she couldn't put into practice if she didn't get out of this van soon. 

Finally having released her hands from rope entirely, she maneuvered carefully around the clutter and through the dark to press her ear to the thin divider leading to the front of the van. To her disappointment, no one was speaking. She was weighing her options, trying to decide whether to linger and wait in hopes of conversation or to make her way to the door, in case the van reduced it's speed and she could attempt to roll out, when the clash of metal and the force of a collision threw her against the wall, before gravity slammed her back to the floor.

* * *

Logan had followed, speeding recklessly, dodging a few cars, and finally catching up to the offending van. Cutting across two lanes abruptly to slide directly behind it, he barely slowed down, barely thought, as he reared the van with his Rover. He saw Mac flinch, he heard Wallace squeal something about Veronica being in the back of that van, but he felt the injuries his ramming might cause would pale in comparison to what would happen to her if they didn't get her out of there. 

He was setting his jaw and muttering another 'hold on' to his passengers, preparing to ram the van again when it cut over a lane and accelerated slightly. Logan didn't bother checking the lane before shifting over as well.

He'd feel guilty about running hypothetical people off the road later. Right now he was a man on a mission, the epitome of a one-tracked mind. Pressing the gas pedal down so hard it shot painful splinters through his foot, he narrowed his eyes and shifted back over one more lane, speeding up now to the van's side. He let out a harsh growl as he swerved towards the van. At the sound of honking, from whose vehicle he wasn't sure, he straightened out but kept even, glaring through the night at the faces he couldn't quite make out in the van to his left.

"Logan, man, killing everyone involved is not the best way to handle this!" Wallace's voice was pleading and authoritative at the same time and Logan shot his eyes briefly to the other's boys courtesy of the rearview mirror. "We just have to keep up with them. They have to stop eventually, so we just won't lose sight of them. They can't hurt her while they are driving, so why should we?!"

Nodding ever so briefly, Logan kept his fingers painfully clenched around the steering wheel and drove, never letting up for a second.

* * *

Driving one handed and pre-occupied with the skill that only an ex-cop or stunt double could claim, Keith Mars broke out his phone and scrolled to Wallace's cell number quickly. 

At the clicking sound of the call being received, Keith didn't even wait for a greeting or any other type of acknowledgement, he just asked, evenly, where they were.

He nodded, even though he was alone, as Wallace rattled off the first mile marker and exit sign he saw. He mentioned that Logan had caught all the way up to the van, and was now following, quite closely.

Keith checked his own location and told Wallace to call as soon as they looked like they were even _thinking_ of ditching the expressway.

* * *

Veronica's neck hurt. Her head pounded. Every part of her legs, from her thighs to her knees to her ankles, stung and burned and throbbed. Yet she ignored it all. She pushed herself up and moved again to listen carefully. 

Thankfully, the erratic driving had stopped, and the hit from what she could only assume was Logan's Range Rover had gotten the boys up front talking. The wall between them, the speed, and the panic buzzing in her ears, all kept her from hearing clearly or easily, but she definitely was making out words that she could only hope were relevant.

There was cursing, and yelling. Angry words directed at 'the bastard' aka Logan, and at each other, and at her for apparently being the most difficult of the girls to abduct, filtered brokenly back to her. Then there was one side of an urgent phone conversation that was made up mostly of yeses and nos. Until, right before silence took over again, she thought she heard them mention "crossing."

So, they were taking her to Mexico.

* * *

When he saw the van veer slightly left, then break sharply to the right to make it just in time to take an exit, Logan knew they thought they were being slick, but he also knew they were wrong. They apparently didn't know whom they were dealing with. 

He rarely, even in the safest of situations, had much regard for his own life.

He had absolutely no regard for anyone else's when it came to protecting Veronica.

And that was what made Logan Echolls dangerous.

With a sharp turn of their own, the Rover tossed it's passengers into the air, into each other's elbows, into the handles of doors, as it rolled swiftly over the grass and rocky sloped median and tore back onto the cement of the exit ramp.

Wallace was on his phone in record time, reporting to Mr. Mars the play by play as Logan drove what would have been his adrenaline-junkie-dream if it wasn't for such a horrifyingly real threat.

Wallace considered himself tough. After all, life had thrown him a lot of curve balls. First with the man he knew as his father's devastating death. Then when his biological father showed up and revealed the lies of his mother, turning his whole world askew. The hit and run in Chicago left an impression as well. And just being friends with Veronica had helped his skin thicken and cooled his nerves. But as he clenched his hand tightly around the handle of the car door at his side, feeling the telling sting of tears in his eyes, he wouldn't have cared if someone dared to call him soft for being so worried, so scared. Veronica was infuriating and headstrong, often thoughtless of those around her, those that she used when pursuing her unique brand of justice. But she was his BFF. She was his family. And for as proud and strong as she seemed, as she was, she was also fragile, vulnerable. It would be easy to forget in the face of her tough talk and stern stare that she was just 19, and that she could break.

It could be easy to forget that she was merely human, but somehow Wallace always managed to remember. And until she was safe, he wouldn't give a damn about much of anything else.


	7. Chapter 7

Life Goes On…

Chapter 7: Here Comes the Calvary

A great big honking thank you for reading, and double thanks to anyone who took a second to review. I apologize, profusely, for this chapter taking entirely too long to post…but I hope you will forgive me, and continue to read. And I pray this doesn't disappoint anyone. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not Mine. **Insert profanity that would make a sailor blush.**

* * *

Weevil liked speed, liked the thrill of the chase. Or at least he had thought so, in all his years of boosting cars and leading motorcycle gangs. But the sick feeling currently twisting in his gut told him that he had been wrong. At this moment there was no excitement, no buzz of raging adrenaline. There was just the terror that they wouldn't be able to reach her, that any moment that van could slip out of sight and Veronica would be lost.

Wallace was beside him, talking a little louder than necessary, a little faster than he should, into his cell phone. Weevil noted that the guy's voice sounded like it was pushing through water; garbled and shaky. And he wasn't sure if he spoke at that moment that his voice would be any different.

Veronica had done some stupid things, put herself in danger before. But of the people, worried and frantic and packed into the Range Rover right now, only Logan had ever been there to witness it. And Weevil thought that's one thing he'd never envy about his rich white nemesis. He didn't think he could survive this more than once.

He kept his dark eyes trained on the van in front of them, noting every swerve, every lean, waiting with his fists clenched for the chase to be over.

* * *

Keith was thinking faster than he would have assumed possible, and barking orders at Wallace at an equally rapid pace. He had alerted local authorities of the chase, and both the sheriff's department and he himself would be reaching the pursuit shortly. He was in the process of telling Wallace to keep the van in sight, no matter what, when he realized the boy, the young man who he found himself loving more and more like a son as the years passed, was panicking. And his own tone, full of urgency, didn't seem to be helping. Trying to ease as much of the tension out of his voice as he could, he sounded almost gentle when he said. "Wallace. It's going to be okay. Hand the phone up to Logan."

He heard a sigh of relief in response to the reassurance, and a 'sure thing' in something closer to Wallace's normal pitch before shuffling noises came across the line until a succinct and gruff 'yes' indicated that Logan was listening.

"Logan, how are you holding up? How close are you?"

"I'm about half a car's length away. I've still got plenty of gas, but they are starting to weave more and more and this isn't exactly familiar territory for me."

Keith was thankful Logan knew what kind of information he wanted, and was beyond grateful that the boy he usually wrote off as rash and hot tempered seemed to be keeping a miraculously firm hold on his cool.

"What's the numbers on the buildings as you pass?"

"We're in the 7100's. Other than a few turns right off the exit they've been staying on Washington Way. I don't think they really know where they are either."

Keith nodded despite the fact no one was there to see it as he slammed his foot down farther on to the gas pedal. "I'm not far. Don't lose sight of them, and let me know immediately if they change routes."

He knew Logan understood that meant no hanging up; the time it took to make a call was too precious to waste. And so he continued to drive, one handed and desperate to make time, listening to Logan's heavy breath, realizing for perhaps the first time just how loved his daughter was.

* * *

Veronica was losing her focus. She no longer knew how long she'd been in the van, and she couldn't guesstimate what time it was either. Adrenaline and emotional distress seemed to be wreaking utter havoc on her inner clock, and she suspected part of her difficulty might be coming from the fact that she didn't really care. No matter what a watch would say, the very real point of it all was that too much time had passed and her early optimism was fading fast.

To make it in the life she had carved out for herself, to survive the mess she had been left with after Lilly's death, and her rape, and her mother's disappearance, she had to hold on tightly to the belief that Veronica Version 2.0 could handle anything, everything. If she doubted for a second that she'd make it, if she allowed weakness to show for even a moment, she was afraid everything would crash down around her, and she couldn't risk that.

But at this point, she'd already risked so much. And it was dark. And she was alone. So she decided to let it all show…just this once. Yes, she was afraid. No, she wasn't sure she had been right. And with a deep and shaking breath, Veronica Mars let herself cry.

* * *

Mac had practically chewed through her bottom lip, but if it was causing any blood or pain she hadn't noticed.

She wasn't sure if any major damage could be done to your eyes by refusing to blink for long periods of time, but if so she didn't care.

Veronica was the first and only best friend she'd ever had, and having taken close to 17 years to find her, she was not in any way eager to lose that yet. Her life had become fuller since the spirited blonde had first approached her in the Neptune High parking lot, and while sometimes it was full of stress or panic or danger, Mac would never willingly go back to the life pre-Veronica Mars.

Unable to do anything but stare at the tracking device and worry, she thought about the other people in her life. Sure, Parker was fun and sweet, a great roommate. She kept her side of the room clean, and understood, with only a limited amount of training, that sometimes Mac really needed quiet and space. And Wallace and Piz were fast becoming not only friends of friends, or friends of friends of friends, but people she enjoyed the company of and counted on in her own right. And well, whatever it was she had found with Bronson was a blessing. But Veronica understood so much more of her. Her low tolerance for pretense, her occasional self-isolation in an effort to avoid ignorance and superficiality. Her rare but genuine moments of giddiness or sentimentality. Veronica knew when to snark with her, when to comfort her, and when to let her be. And starting to get further panicked and internally hysterical, Mac found herself asking how lucky was she to have a friend who, even after being held at gunpoint and being taunted with the supposed death of a father, rushed to _**her**_ aid and stood by her side, patiently, while her heart healed?

Too lucky to let some bastards ruin it now.

Suddenly, in addition to the fear, the concern, the desperation, she felt a substantial wave of anger hit her hard… and found _**that**_ was the key to not feeling so powerless.

* * *

Then, everything changed.

Logan wasn't even sure how it happened. He didn't blink, he didn't flinch, and yet somehow the van he'd had his eyes trained upon vanished from his sight. Immediately, frantically, he began barking, "Where did it go? Where did they fucking go?" His palms instantly covered in sweat, slipping and struggling to keep an assertive grasp on both the wheel and Wallace's cell phone. His heart rate, already way above where it should be, seemed to triple and it hurt as it thumped against the walls of his chest. Even as Mac rushed to pick up a signal and Weevil and Wallace scanned every alley and lot around them with eager stares, even as Keith shouted desperate and disbelieving questions over the phone, Logan heard nothing but the gushing surge of blood in his ears. He was nothing but eyes; peeled and anxious. They strained in the darkness of the early morning to make out something, anything, in the unfamiliar landscape that might restart his breath. Was there a narrow street that he had missed? Did they pull over sharply and kill the lights, letting him zoom right past? How could this have happened? How was it possible that he could let her down again? His mind was half screaming at him, half shutting down in defeat, and not a single cell within him could truly focus. Until finally Mac's shout of "Turn left!" broke through his barriers. The world moved and sounded and smelled again just in time to hear another, "Now, turn right. Sharp right!"

Spinning the steering wheel abruptly again, Mac encouraged him to drive faster, to look for the van, like he'd be doing anything else. She instructed him to turn again, to speed up still. Finally, her voice low and perplexed, she breathed, "It's stopped. It says they are here… somewhere." Logan looked around "here" and found them to be on a dimly lit drive, something between a road and an alley, appearing to run behind a large lot of storage units.

Stopping the rover, Logan wordlessly handed the phone, with its sounds of static crackling and Keith's impatient breath, back to Wallace, and eyes never sliding down from the grid laid out before them, he reached across Mac to the glove compartment and pulled out the handgun Dick's father had given what felt like a million years before. She let out a small gasp, but didn't say a word as he reached for the door handle with his other hand.

Mumbling a "stay in the car," Logan took a deep breath and exited.

He made it only a few steps before he heard another door shut and a deep voice whisper harshly, "What do you think you are doing?"

"Mac says they stopped here somewhere. I'm going to find them. I thought it was a pretty obvious plan, Weevs."

"I don't think you should go in there."

"I'm sorry, were you confused about what we've been doing? This is a _**rescue**_ mission, I don't really think I have a choice."

"Seriously, man, wait for Sheriff Mars."

"So I can tell him I lost his only daughter? No thank you." Logan thought this was a clear ending to the conversation, but as he went to turn away Weevil's voice again stopped him.

"Fine, Opie. I get it. But why are you the one going in? I mean, come on, out of the two of us who has the longstanding background in criminal behavior and violence?"

Logan quirked an eyebrow expectantly.

Weevil's lips pursed, as he rolled his dark eyes. "Okay, okay. Fair enough, but I've actually been the_** leader**_ of a gang. So I think that still gives me the edge. Let me go in there."

"No way, Paco. And don't even suggest the buddy system. You know as well as I do, if we get her out of this, Veronica will never forgive herself, or either of us, if anything happens to those two." Logan nodded his head to the Mac and Wallace shaped silhouettes in the Range Rover. His eyes fell on Weevil's and locked, and for a moment Eli Navarro was surprised to see seriousness and respect on the other boy's face, as opposed to the blank ease of mocking he usually found. "Besides, you said you _**think**_you love her. Shouldn't the one that goes in after her _**know**_?"

Logan broke his stare away and settled it somewhere insignificant on the shadowy pavement. His voice lost all sounds of pleading, and when he continued it was almost eerily matter of fact. "If something happens to Veronica, my life won't mean much anyway. So just, stay here. You wait for Keith. Keep your eyes open, and if things get ugly, you get them out of here."

Weevil nodded almost imperceptibly as Logan tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and strode purposefully toward the first row of cement buildings fronted by heavy metal doors.

"Hey, Echolls."

Logan paused to look back over his shoulder.

"Be careful."

* * *

In the moment that Logan's profane outburst brought Wallace's attention to the fact that the very icon of his terror was no longer driving in a rush before them through stranger's streets, it surprised him to find that his fear was not heightened as Logan's was, but that instead he found new alertness and increased awareness of every single particle around him.

The time to be weak and scared was over; she needed his A game now. They would find that van, and they would get her back, and there was no other option.

Wallace heard Mac's instructions shout over the roar of the road and 4 people's adrenaline-induced heaving, and it was with all his energy and fast athletic reflexes that his eyes and body moved to absorb each new corner, anticipating the need to act.

As Logan parked and handed him the phone he was nearly shaking out of his skin. He snuck an anxious glance at Weevil as Logan took what looked very much like a gun and slid out of the vehicle. He was annoyed the rich boy's naivety, and at Weevil's dismissive shrug.

And Wallace was _**severely**_ annoyed at being told to stay in the car. He listened intently as Logan and Weevil fought over who should be the white knight, and rolled his eyes at the insinuation that he and Mac needed a baby sitter while they just waited to hear the fate of the girl they all cared about. He gently placed the cell phone on the seat, speaker side down to muffle the sounds. Leaning forward in his seat, he took a peak at Mac's expression. It no longer held the dread it did as they left the club, in fact it was almost stoic…at best, stony and cold. And he suspected he knew exactly what she was feeling.

"Hey, Mac?"

She didn't say anything but turned her eyes to his.

"I don't feel much like staying in the car at this point."

Silently she nodded.

"I know it's stupid, rash, potentially deadly…but I can't just sit and wait any more."

She leaned closer to him, her expression slightly more conspiring. "What do you suggest we do instead?"

"_**We**_?"

"She's my best friend, too, Wallace. And I figure, we're just as capable of helping as the ex lover and the ex con. Probably more so, since we're smart enough not to just go in, guns a' blazing."

With a deep breath, and a silent apology to his mother, Wallace quietly led Mac out of and around the Range Rover, unseen. And he supposed that he should have known all along that in being best friends with Veronica Mars, well, that this was what he was _**really**_ there for.

* * *

Twenty horror-filled minutes later, Keith Mars pulled up to an abandoned Range Rover that appeared to have been haphazardly thrown into park and vacated in a hurry. He found a cell phone, one that he'd long since disconnected his call from, stashed on the back seat, and a hastily scribbled note from Weevil stating, "I couldn't stop them. Hurry."

Muttering curses about children who cared too much, who risked too much, he contacted the back up with a brand new level of urgency.

Then, with his hand hovering over his holstered gun, Keith Mars started cautiously toward a father's worst nightmare.

* * *

Author's Note 2: Please take a second to review...good or bad, I'd love to know what you think. Thanks!!! 


	8. Chapter 8

Life Goes On…

Chapter 8: Hard Lessons

THANK YOU to all those who have been reading and reviewing, especially those who did so during my excruciatingly long absence from the world of fanfic. I'm super NERVOUS about this, so please let me know how it goes...and hopefully this new chapter won't disappoint!

Disclaimer: So very not mine.

* * *

Wallace's hand was sweaty and shaking, wrapped around the palm of one Cindy Mackenzie. But he had no intention of letting go, and he believed this would be one time where Mac wouldn't bristle at the contact. 

The storage lot surrounded them in two shades, dark and darker. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be a delay before he could even make out the most obvious shapes, and his eyes were starting to feel the strain from all the effort. He kept his entire body on high alert; taking each step with silent caution, almost forgetting to breathe in his attempt to not miss the slightest of sounds. And he didn't want to let go of Mac's hand until he had to; he didn't want to feel alone in the still, quiet blackness-- alone with his fear.

Suddenly, in total heart-shocking surprise, he found himself spinning at the not-so-gentle tugging on his hand. His eyes widened in surprise as he watched a hand clasp over Mac's gasping mouth and a finger raise in a silencing gesture to the sternly set lips of Keith Mars.

Wallace let out a barely audible sigh of relief, and mouthed a sincere, "Thank God" for the arrival of the man he trusted most in the world.

* * *

Veronica could already feel each bruise rising to the surface of her skin, she already ached with the distinct whole-body soreness that only being pushed and pulled and man-handled could provide. 

Her latest transport had been her most frightening experience yet. First, the van had suddenly increased in speed, and began to swiftly change direction several times. She felt her stomach twist with nausea and the disorientation made her head throb. Then, abruptly, the van had halted and the doors were thrust open so quickly, her long-passed exhausted brain couldn't keep up, couldn't process all that was happening. And the fear started to rise to her throat, constricting it, making it harder to breathe.

As the thick silhouettes approached her, speaking in loud, harsh tones, she sat huddled in the back of the van, before all she could hear were her own whimpers of total and complete terror.

Her captors were less than thrilled to find her hands no longer bound, and after they'd managed to overpower and restrain her again, despite her biting and scratching and pulling away, a vicious backhanding across her cheek was her final warning that they could do this a harder way. But it wasn't until the cloth bag, coarse and musty, was placed over her head that she knew just how scared she could be.

They'd walked her, for what felt like ages, half dragging her to keep pace across cold and pebbled cement. She quickly learned that any noise, aside from breathing, resulted in a more ferocious tug on her arm and the sharp scraping of her bare feet over the ground. When they finally stopped the trek, she was thrown against a wall – cold, damp. She heard the hopeless sound of metal slamming down shut behind her. Unable to see anything, to feel anything but pain and fear, Veronica Mars had slid down to the floor, and acquainted herself with being powerless.

And that's how she remained, for she couldn't even begin to guess how long, bruising inside and out as she silently rattled off apologetic prayers.

Until she heard _**it. **_

It being a soft and muffled sob.

It meaning she wasn't alone.

* * *

"They'd better hurry. This shit is getting too real – and we need to get out of here." 

"Relax, hombre. They'll be here soon. Those ninos aren't going to fuck anything up. This shipment will go tonight, just as planned. Everything we'll be fine."

Crouched down along the far side of a storage unit across the way, Logan didn't like the sound of this man's certainty. His fists clenched and unclenched in a way as natural to him as breathing, and thought to himself, thankfully for once, that if there's one thing he always did, it was most certainly fuck things up.

His gaze cut through the shadows, scanning for any sign of more of them. The two men who speaking were stationed in front of a unit, guns out and ready. The first, the young man Logan recognized as the one who had hit on Veronica in the club, looked panicked as he took nervous drags off his cigarette. The second, eyes black and steady, looked downright bored. Off to the side another man stood whispering into a cell phone. His back was to Logan, allowing only a glance at his profile every now and then, yet Logan was sure this was the man in charge… this was the man who could hurt Veronica. And as he moved his hand to the gun tucked into his pants, he decided he needed a plan. Fast.

* * *

"Any sign of him?" 

Weevil gave a brief head shake, as if his blended expression of annoyance and concern wasn't a dead give away that Logan was still MIA after checking the entire perimeter.

After rounding up ¾ of his daughter's underage rescue team, Keith was beginning to get impatient. He wanted this over, he wanted his daughter safe. They'd found the van, engine cooled and empty, and it was getting harder and harder to keep the increasing dread off his face.

And as he cursed Logan under his breath, he wasn't sure whether he'd strangle or kiss the boy when they finally found him.

"Okay, well, we've got to keep looking. Back up should be here soon, but we need to find her. Like now. Stay as low as you can, and keep your mouths closed and your eyes open."

He registered a quick nod from each of his team, and then slowly began towards the center of the lot.

Keith was in a constant internal struggle to keep his mind clear. He knew how to handle these situations, and he was good at it. He had been an excellent cop after all. But everything was different when his own daughter was involved, when his reason for living was at stake. Amidst the calm recitations of protocol he'd learned at the academy and the review of life-learned wisdom from years in the field, all his mind could really do was envision the sweet, loving face of his only daughter as a little girl, and the resulting tears did nothing for his vision in the dark.

* * *

Weevil shook his head in disgust and frustration, for what had to have been the millionth time. He briefly thought how long this night had seemed, how it most certainly should have been morning by now. But the darkness was still thick and heavy hanging around them. Making it hard to see, hard to think. 

He noticed in his periphery that the other two sidekicks were practically linked at their sides, both with similar expressions of set determination and overwhelming fear painted across their shadowed features. He'd barely seen the two of them exchange words without Veronica directly between them before. Had the situation been slightly less severe, he might have given a laugh at how such a tiny, closed-off, emotionally unavailable and viciously sarcastic blonde, could have inspired such loyalty in such a mixed company. He knew she didn't often stop to say thank you, but he hoped she at least knew she was lucky…

But then Weevil was pulled from his inner commentary as he was sure he just heard something. He extended his arm out to stop his three companions, and cocked his head to the side to indicate where the sound was coming from. All four sucked in their breath to listen, and sure enough a few vowels had floated off a hushed and aggressive conversation, and blown their way. Weevil thanked his years of crime, spent listening for the footsteps of cops, for it had apparently done him some good.

Following the voices, he felt Keith push passed him, determinedly taking the lead. Weevil looked once to the heavens, whether for safety or courage or strength he wasn't sure, and then continued on as the whispers grew louder.

This was it.

* * *

"Igh. -eh-o?!" Veronica's throat was sore as she tried to push out strong words, passed the barrier of her gag and through the thick bag, into the air for whoever was with her to hear. 

She was relieved when she heard a gasp, and a moan, and a grunt. All from different corners of the room. So, at least 3 of the 8 girls were here.

Of course, she had no idea where 'here' was. Or what their fates entailed. But her brain began to work again, increasing in speed and clarity. She pulled down and back on her arms, testing out her new restraints. Those morons had tied it tighter, but used the exact same method to bind her again. Instantly, she began to struggle. Her already raw, chapped and bleeding wrists started to go numb against the tearing pressure of the knotted fabric and Veronica used that to push through the strain and pull. She let out a ferocious, if not instantly muffled cry, as she ripped one hand free.

With another bawl, and the assistance of her newly re-acquired hand, she slipped the cloth over the tips of her left fingers, and wiggled and rotated her limbs as the tingle of restored movement shot through them.

Suddenly Veronica felt her second wind, a renewed since of purpose. She was instantly reminded of her own strength. She was NOT a victim. She was a savior. Or at least that's what she was going to be when she got these girls home safe. That's why she was involved to begin with, and she'd be damned if she went through this hell of a night for no reason.

She hastily grabbed the corner of the bag on her head, and tugged it off – instantly relieved when the cool air, however stale, touched her moist cheeks. She practically tore the gag away, not caring if the rag burned the sensitive flesh at the corners of her mouth. Swallowing a few times, before gleefully gulping full breaths of air, she inspected the windowless cement room and found her voice, hoarse but strong. "Hello girls, I'm Veronica Mars; and I _**am**_ going to get us out of here."

* * *

From where she stood, Mac didn't think their situation looked _**that**_ bad…and that's what really scared her. She took in the sight of three men, two obviously armed, all standing at moderate attention outside a cement block, with a locked metal garage-style door, that probably held her best friend, with only limited amounts of oxygen, inside. Nothing to be too concerned about, right? 

Of course not.

So where was the twist they weren't seeing?

She looked to her side, taking in the faces of the men in Veronica's life.

Mr. Mars was clearly working out a plan. His eyebrows drawn together, lips pursed, eyes not missing a single flicker of movement while he waited for his opportunity to save his baby girl, again.

Wallace was all energy. His eyes were darting all over the scene before him, hoping for the go-ahead, wanting to do something, anything, to help.

Weevil was total stillness, and it surprised her. He looked like he was holding his breath. He looked like he was preparing for his heart to break.

And it was then that she noticed him. The other _**him**_, slouched against the wall across the way. Looking like he could pounce at any moment.

And she knew in that instant that Logan Echolls was bound to do something incredibly stupid before this night was over.

Leaning to her right, she ran her shoulder gently into Keith's, getting his attention without startling him. Once his eyes broke, reluctantly, from the men before him, she nodded her head with purpose to the boy opposite them. She knew it was too risky to try to get to Logan. To avoid being seen they'd have to back track into the maze of units and make their way across, and at this point time was far too precious. And obviously, they couldn't just shout to him. Mac watched a litany of reactions to Logan's location slide across Keith's face. Relief. Frustration. Concern. Gratitude. And she wondered if the boy she'd only recently come to truly know was capable of having a simple, straight forward relationship with any member of the Mars clan. She doubted it.

Having felt her stare, Keith looked down at her and smiled, ever so slightly, as reassurance, and as a thank you.

* * *

Logan was continuously amazed that the rapid beating of his heart, the thumping he heard so deafeningly in his ears, wasn't echoing through the night and giving his position away. 

He wanted to take action; God, was it killing him to sit so still for so long, while she was in danger. But he couldn't be sure that she was even in there, he couldn't be sure that there weren't more guns hidden from his view. And he couldn't afford his usual brand of rashness right now. He kept failing in his attempts to decide what course of action had the lesser risk, and so he did nothing, stuck at a stalemate, while his chest threatened to burst.

He loved her. So much, too much. And it had never been more apparent to him.

He'd known for years now, that'd he do _**anything**_ for her. But he'd also thought, naively, that it would pass, that it _**could**_ pass. He truly believed that as much as he loved her, if she didn't love him the same way in return, that eventually he'd just stop. Not the loving her, of course, that was something permanent that he'd resigned himself to long ago. But he'd thought maybe he'd stop needing her one day, stop needing her to be, to exist. He'd believed that the part of him that took every breath in the name of Veronica Mars would eventually fade away, and he'd be able to breathe for himself again.

But now he knew better.

What he'd said to Weevil wasn't some melodramatic, romantic exaggeration – it was heartbreakingly true. He'd be beyond worthless without her. Their lives, their hearts, their breaths were so intertwined, that he needed to save her to save himself. But how?

And then he heard the last thing he was expecting. Her voice.

In an instant, he was wrapped up in their confusion as the three men in front of him looked to each other and stumbled for comprehension. Veronica's voice, distinct to him even through the metal, the night and the din, was taunting them, as what he could only assume were her tiny fists beat with sharp clangs against the door.

His relief that she was in fact here, that she was alive, was instantaneous. And then it was almost entirely replaced with worry and disbelief. What the hell was she doing?

He heard the men before him shake out of their surprise and into violent annoyance.

"It's the new bitch again. How the hell does she keep getting loose?"

"I think she need's to be taught a lesson. We have time, open it up."

Horror shot through Logan as everything around him began to move quicker, the world blurring. Suddenly, as one of the men unlocked and began to lift open the door, Logan's body jolted forward, gun ready, and threats he wasn't even aware he was making flew as shouts from his throat in rage.

All eyes were on him, his meager fire arm extended before him, his jaw quivering as his eyes dared anyone to move.

He was surprised, when instead of paying attention to his demands, the man with the cell phone, walked to the door and finished raising it to his own height. Revealed to Logan in the dark were the forms of the 3 frightened girls, clingy to each other desperately in a corner, and one bruised but breathing Veronica. She looked shocked to see him, and as always, ready for a fight.

The man saw the look and leered at her, and Logan took a few strides towards them in anger until the clicking of a safety brought to his attention that the other two men stood with guns pointed at him. He was surprised at how little he cared, until he saw the flash of fear blaze in her eyes.

Smiling, sick and condescending, the man pulled Veronica to his side, his hand lingering low around her waist and making Logan's entire body tense with barely controlled fury. Noting the strong reaction in the unexpected visitor, the man smiled and, eyes never leaving Logan's, he sloppily kissed Veronica's cheek. Her eyes closed in revulsion, and Logan's heart ached for her.

"Stop touching her."

"You are outnumbered, both by men and guns. And I have something that apparently means quite a lot to you. I don't believe you should be shouting out orders."

"Stop touching her, or I swear to God I will kill you." Logan kept his gun steadily aimed on the man with Veronica. To his dismay, the man merely laughed.

"Ah, and usually we're so careful to find the ones without boyfriends – they're so…inconvenient."

"I'm not her boyfriend."

"Interesting technicality, but it's obvious you care for her. An old lover, perhaps? All the same, you shouldn't have come here."

"I disagree."

And there was the laugh again. "Well, you would…considering you just think I'm going to kill you. And don't get me wrong, I am going to kill you. But you shouldn't have come here…because this all is going to make things so very much harder on _**her**_."

The man yanked hard on Veronica's arm, pulling her even closer into his side. She yelped, in pain and disgust, and without thinking Logan stepped towards her again.

Only to stop, as she screamed, at the warning shot that rang out into the night.

The man laughed once more, this time at the fearful expression on Veronica's face. "I have to admit I can see why you like this one. She's very pretty, obviously, but she's also got spirit. I bet you've put it to good use a time or two, eh?" The man winked lecherously.

Logan felt his blood boiling. Everything, even the shadows, was tinting red. But he saw that in this case his passion would be his weakness, so with great effort he swallowed his anger slightly, so that his voice came out closer to annoyed. "You must really love to hear yourself talk. If you are going to kill me, would you just do it already? Death has got to be better than listening to this."

"Oh, you must have misunderstood. I can't kill you now. You'll be going with us. And you, and she, will be quite the teacher's tool. You see, when the others watch her watch you die, they'll stop hoping they're found, they'll stop praying their loved ones will come and try to rescue them. For they'll see what will happen to those who do, and they'll be much easier to deal with because of it."

Logan's eyes never left the self-satisfied and malicious stare, even as he could feel an all too familiar fire, feel _**her**_ ignite. And then it all happened. Veronica's elbow, sharp and forceful, found it's way into the man's groin, it was only after he slumped to the floor with a groan that the other two turned, taking their guns off Logan, to see what was happening. In an instant she was running to Logan's side, as her father's voice broke into the chaos and shouted for everyone to freeze.

Relief again entered Logan's mind as he watched Keith save the day…until a scream and a crack broke his reverie. He looked over just in time to see the man, back to his feet, gun in his hand, smiling, as Veronica rushed forward and shoved him out of the way of the bullet.

There was more yelling, screaming, Keith's gun and a few others, back up finally arrived. Weevil, Mac, and Wallace rushed to the other three girls, as Keith and a few other officers read rights and cuffed wrists.

Logan didn't see any of it though.

Sitting on the cold concrete, pressing his palm tightly to her shoulder, Logan cradled the bleeding Veronica in his arms, murmuring, "I love you" again and again into her hair.

* * *

Thanks for reading, please review!!!! 


	9. Chapter 9

Life Goes On…

Chapter 9: You Don't Bring Me Anywhere But Down

Author's Note: This chapter is a little less action, a little more thought/conversation. And has a great big spotlight on the L/V relationship and the way it affects their dealings with the others post-tragic circumstances. Essentially, when things go bad is when V is most willing to cling to him. At any rate, I'll be back to mysteries and exploring other complex character interactions and relationships soon, but I needed to release some LoVe-ing. Even if it's not actual LoVe-ing.

I apologize if it seems forced or awkward to the story for anyone. And this is a most heartfelt PLEASE, asking you to review.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, relating to this story or otherwise.

* * *

_It's getting to be old hat, you know: Veronica Mars escapes death…again._

_This time around, the bullet hole I've got as a reminder of my" severely poor decisions" has surprisingly kept the disappointed I-told-you-so's to a minimum. For now at least._

_Saying what Dad wants to hear is probably helping with that a bit, too._

_So you'd think I could rest easy, heal in peace, knowing that my "brilliant and competent father," with the assistance of his "fully armed and trained department staff (that is NOT made up of college students)" recovered the other missing girls—taking down the local sect of an international drug smuggling/sexual slavery ring that the feds had been looking at for over a year. You'd think that, while learning a valuable lesson about my own "destructibility," I could be happy that I played some part in putting more bad men behind bars. _

_But of course not—this is Neptune after all. Just as one mystery closes, at least 5 more cases of corruption, deceit, and injustice present themselves. And with the way my personal life has been lately, I can't expect anything to be peaceful or easy for very long…_

* * *

"What do you mean he's gone?"

Mac shrugged as she poured water into the tiny paper cup and handed it to the disbelieving blonde confined to the hospital bed. "No one has seen or heard from him since Wallace dropped him off. Not even Dick. He left a letter for Parker under our door, but she's still not back from Colorado to read it, and while I'm sure I can guess a bit of what's in there, I'm pretty positive his current location's been omitted."

Veronica could feel the sympathetic gaze on her even as her eyes searched nothingness in an attempt at comprehension. She was starting to get used to it. For the past day she hadn't seen much but pity and weariness on any of her visitors' faces. Up until this moment, though, it had been about the gunshot wound in her left shoulder, the bruises and the rope burns, and not about an MIA ex-boyfriend.

Her voice was low, and she was sure the ever-perceptive Mac knew she wasn't really asking anyone but the fates when she whispered, "How could he just leave?"

The brunette, who had more than proven herself, again and again, as one of the greatest friends a girl could have, reached over and squeezed Veronica's trembling hand. "He'll be back. I know he will."

* * *

"So, Superfly, what's the plan for today? _America's Next Top Model_ marathon?"

Wallace tried to look like the very idea wasn't physically painful for him, a bright smile plastered purposefully across his face.

Veronica appreciated his willingness to abandon his masculinity in an effort to cheer her up and keep her amused, but to be honest, he was fighting a losing battle. Since Mac had mentioned Logan's absence, Veronica's face had been in a perma-scowl. Even as she was okayed for release, and then transported by her doting father home to her adoring dog, she couldn't muster a genuine smile…of gratitude or relief. Her brilliant but exhausted brain couldn't break free from one thought, "Why did he leave?"

It wasn't as if he'd been a daily fixture in her life 48 hours ago. His whereabouts hadn't been her business for quite awhile, and she'd avoided interaction with him vigorously in the most recent weeks. But it's funny how being kidnapped and shot can change your perspective, change your life. She no longer remembered why she'd been mad at him just days before. She no longer cared. What she cared about was that in the instant a gun was fired in his direction she'd felt a panic unlike any she'd known before. What she cared about was that he'd told her he still loved her, his voice carrying through the dimming world as her consciousness slipped away. What she cared about was that he wasn't there when she woke up, and he wasn't there now, and for whatever irrational reason she _**expected **_him to be.

She offered Wallace the best smile she could as she shrugged away his suggestion. She handed him the remote. "You can pick what we watch. I'm benefiting from your company after all."

He nodded, seeming to understand suddenly that her mood had little to do with any physical pain, and changed his approach. Laughing play-evilly, he switched the television to "Pimp My Ride," enjoying her overly dramatic cringe. He then grabbed two bottles of water, and a plate of brownies Inga had sent over, and settled in beside her on the couch. He waited for her to nestle her good shoulder into his side, before carefully stretching his surrounding arm along the back edge of the sofa to keep it from coming down on her delicate wound.

They munched and watched in near silence for an episode and a half, Wallace noting the entire time how little light she had in her eyes. Clearing his throat, he fixed his eyes on the screen before speaking. "You know, V. It can't be an easy thing watching your greatest fear realized. Especially after doing everything you could have imagined to try and prevent it. But when he understands that it wasn't his fault, when he gets what it means, he'll be back."

Wallace nearly jumped in surprise when after 10 minutes Veronica actually responded, her voice small but more genuine than the earlier perkiness she'd been trying to force. More genuine than she usually ever dared to be. "What _**does**_ it mean?"

"That you love him as much as he loves you."

* * *

Logan stumbled into the unfamiliar suite a little after 4am, not bothering with lights he couldn't have found anyway, as he half-fell/half-dove for the leather couch. It'd been a few days, or at least he thought so, since the single most horrible thing ever had happened to him…but the absolute agony inside him hadn't subsided, not even a little.

He wanted to think of something else, anything else. That's why he'd fled Neptune, flying out on the first available plane without a care as to where it was heading. Which at this moment he still wasn't even sure where he'd ended up. He'd spent hours and hours and hours drinking, with every intention to keep going until the vision of her, bleeding in his arms, fell into shadow and disappeared. But it never faded. All he saw was her, clear even as everything else blurred at the edges, smearing in triplet.

Frustrated, and beyond wasted, he searched for his phone, clumsy fingers tangling in his pockets. Finally grasping the slick surface, he pulled it out and scrolled through his contacts 3 times before he was able to focus on the number he wanted. He pushed send, somehow knowing it may not be the best idea, but being too drunk to care.

There was a pause and a throat clearing on the other end of the line before Keith Mars sleepily asked, "Hello?"

"Hi, Mr. Mars."

If Logan had been sober he may have noticed the slight grunt and shuffle of sheets as Keith forced himself awake and pushed himself up, followed by the sound of a lamp being switched on.

If Logan was sober he may have noticed the relief evident in Keith's voice.

"Logan. Where are you? Are you alright?"

The acting sheriff's sincerity was met with the humorless chuckle and huff of a man who considered himself the opposite of alright.

Bypassing the questions, deeming them irrelevant to this call, Logan tried very hard not to slur as he asked. "How is she?"

Sighing as he rubbed wearily at his eyes, Keith answered as honestly as he could, given that his daughter wasn't one to open up about fears, regrets, and feelings. "She's healing. Physically, at least. And trying very hard to show she's learned her lesson." Keith paused, as if hoping Logan would interrupt him. When it became apparent the boy expected more, the older man sighed and barreled on. "But she's sad, distant. I think part of it is that she feels so guilty for putting Mac and Wallace, even Weevil, in danger." Another labored pause. "I know most of it is because she wants you to come home."

Having revealed more than he intended, spoken words he wasn't sure he wanted to believe yet, Keith decided it was Logan's turn to talk and waited through 3 solid minutes and an extraneous 17 seconds for the boy to breathe out a response.

"I can't do that, Mr. Mars."

Again, Keith sighed deeply. "Logan –"

"No." All the apparent intoxication left Logan's voice then, the one word coming out sure and strong. "I love her. And all I have ever done is hurt her. I can't risk that that will be all I ever do."

"Logan, you may have saved her life. Or saved her from something worse than death. And that was just this time." Keith's voice held a slight tremor, as he recalled other dark occasions when this boy, this young man, had stood between his daughter and danger. "When I think of that night, her on the roof of the Neptune Grand--"

There was the sound of sniffing, of hands brushing, awkward and hasty, at tearing eyes, on both sides of the line.

"Logan, I don't know if I ever thanked you for taking care of my daughter. Of not just saving her from Cassidy's gun, but from her own anger and desperation, from her grief. But I'm eternally grateful to you for that. And, I'm asking you now to come home, son. Maybe I can return the favor."

Logan's initial reaction was to scoff away the possibility that he could even be saved. From anything, let alone from himself. These last few days were just the final blow, the latest dip into despair. But he'd been slipping downhill for months; not even Veronica was able to stop it completely. And once she was gone, he hadn't really cared. Parker, his "new" attitude towards school, his attempts at normal, sane and healthy – all lies.

But there was something in Keith's voice. A perhaps forced, but effective, certainty that he was fixable; the belief that he was worthy of the effort, that he'd earned it.

Something still held him back though. "I can't see her, I can't face her."

The laugh Logan heard was incredulous, exasperated.

"You can't face her? Logan, she lov-."

"I got her shot! That gun wasn't aimed for her. I was there to get her out of harm's way, and she just jumped right in front of it…she got hurt worse because of me. It's my fault, and I'm supposed to protect her. I'm supposed to take the bullet and God, why are you even talking to me? She should hate me, and you should too."Logan felt himself overtaken with anger and shame, his whole body pulling out of the haze he'd worked so hard for, his body quivering in near-shock as he realized how much he meant that.

Suddenly, Keith's heart ached in a way that surprised him. So many emotions had been there in the outburst: grief, desperation, agony, love, fear; and he felt himself realize why his daughter was pulled to Logan so strongly.

"She couldn't hate you. Not for this, and I'm pretty sure not for anything. Though I'm also sure I've witnessed her try. Do I wish my daughter hadn't taken a bullet? Of course. Do I wish it had hit you instead? Of course _**not**_."

Keith listened closely to the silence that answered him. All he could make out was slightly still-labored breaths, and somehow that pushed him on.

"Veronica …cares about you. And she wants to see you. But if you aren't ready for that, fine. I still want you to come home. Fly back to Neptune in the morning. Take a shower, eat a good meal. Then, stop by the office tomorrow afternoon and we'll talk. She doesn't have to know."

Keith hadn't known he was holding his breath until he released it at Logan's hesitant and soft, "Okay."

* * *

_So, no to the peaceful. And an even bigger no to the easy. A constant ache, the sharpening soreness, and a wandering mind that alternates between hurt disbelief and spiteful anger, are just a few of the things ensuring my complicated and varied pains at the moment. I've officially returned to the upsettingly familiar long, sleepless nights._

_Sleepless nights where I remember that s__omeone wise once told me no one writes songs about the ones that come easy. _

_And I've realized, maybe too late, that he was right. _

_But if all this is song-worthy, I kinda just wish he'd have stuck around to write it with me. _


	10. Chapter 10

Life Goes On…

Chapter 10: Just Another Fork in the Road

Author's Note: *looks left, looks right* It's been a long, long, long time since I wrote anything. Hopefully someone is still here to read it? If so, reviews would be like sunshine on a cloudy day….

Also, I'm easing my way back into this so it probably sucks something awful. And I'm truly sorry for that.

Disclaimer: Not at all mine. Or there would have been a movie by now….

* * *

"So we're not telling her, why?"

"Because he doesn't want us to."

Mac shot a brief incredulous glance at her passenger before returning her eyes to the road. "Okay, but have you taken into account that she will eventually find out, because she's Veronica, and when she does she will _**not**_ be happy that we kept this from her?"

"Yes."

Again Mac felt herself react, heaving a sigh in true exasperation. She was often a woman of few words, but she was beginning to be more than a little annoyed by Wallace's succinct responses. She felt the need to state the obvious. "She's much scarier than he is."

Wallace appeared to hesitate slightly at that, before swallowing hard and turning towards Mac with a face full of resolve. "I don't care. Keith asked me to keep this a secret, and I told him I would. If and when she finds out, I'll take whatever punishment she decides to dish out. It may seem like a little thing, but that man's been through enough lately. I'm not letting Mr. Mars down."

Mac nodded begrudgingly. She could see his predicament. But she still wasn't satisfied that trying to keep this information, or any information, from their vindictive snoop of a best friend was ever in anyone's best interest. "What is he thinking, not telling her he knows where Logan is? She's been going crazy."

Wallace shrugged. "He's thinking Logan deserves to come back on his own terms."

"I'd just like to say, right now, that I'm pretty sure this is going to end badly."

She looked briefly out of the corner of her eye, just in time to see Wallace grimace slightly. "It usually does."

* * *

_First day back to, well, life really, and it is pretty obvious that karma is catching up to me. _

_A quick morning shift at the library showed me that shelving dusty, musty books can in fact be made more tedious by doing it with one arm. And after my first two classes it seems that while to my peers who watch the occasional news story I'm even less approachable than before, the uninformed masses seems to think my sling is both fascinating and an excellent conversation starter. _

_I might start a drinking game. One shot for every, "Oh my God, did you hurt your arm? What happened?"_

_But at least now, for the moment, I'm almost home; the place where I can relax, enjoy some solitude, actively avoid thinking of ex-boyfriends whose names rhyme with Rogan…_

_Except, wait. _

_Is that?_

_No, it couldn't be…_

"Hello, Veronica."

Madison's face, while carefully retaining the haughty appearance perfected from years of looking down on everyone, also showed signs of anxiety as she waited uncomfortably in front of the Mars' apartment door.

Veronica scowled as she approached the girl most often thought of as her nemesis, suspicion and distaste spread evenly across her features. "Madison."

By this point she'd reached her door but made no move to unlock it. There was no way she was inviting her inside. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but what the hell do you want?"

"You mean I can't just stop by to see an old friend. How you've been?" Madison's sugary-sarcastic sneer was punctuated with a pitying glance at the navy fabric holding Veronica's wounded arm gently in place. "Oh, and how's Logan?"

Veronica felt her face wince, as the jab stung for more reasons than Madison could have intended or imagined, but she quickly recovered with a withering glare. "Let's try this again: Madison, what the hell do you want?"

"I want you to fix what you broke." Madison's tone was both accusing and demanding; two things likely to spark up Veronica's defenses.

And the petite blonde felt more herself than she had in days as she felt the dangerous venom seep back into her voice. "Excuse me?"

"You, and your prying and your meddling, have cost me, a lot. And now you need to make it right. As you became aware of recently, I had a relationship with M-"

"Mr. McMurphy. Who is old enough to be your father," Veronica interrupted condescendingly. "Go on."

Madison's face twisted into a snide, fake little smile. "Yes, Mr. McMurphy. At any rate, he is quite uncaring to the fact that we've been found out and is actively pursuing seeing me again."

Veronica shifted, irritated and impatient. "I'm sorry, or no wait, I'm not. Look, Madison, I have no idea why you think your issues of living out a poorly scripted soap opera would be of any concern to me, but they really aren't. Any care I had was tied to doing a job, which has been completed, so now I'd like to forget both it and you. So, leave."

Madison rolled her eyes but otherwise remained totally still, "It's not my issues with him you need to be worried about. It's the resulting issues with his gold-digging bitch of a wife. You know, your client. I believe she's having me followed, and not by an investigator this time. I suspect she knows that her husband has no intention of calling it off, and while I'm unsure of her precise intentions, I do doubt they'll be pretty. Just doing your pathetic, nuisance of a job or not, I doubt someone so righteous would want that on their conscience."

Veronica's jaw tightened, at the jabs and the audacity and the vileness Madison spewed out into the world effortlessly.

She was also equally irritated, frustrated, pissed that the girl was right.

If her former client was using the information she'd provided to launch a less-than-legal, possibly violent, vengeful vendetta…well, that wasn't something she could ignore. Even if it was directed at Madison.

Forcing her breathing to slow and swallowing her rage back down, Veronica looked at Madison coolly and carefully. "Do you think you were followed here?"

Madison seemed for a split instant to be surprised by what appeared to be Veronica's agreement to help, but it faded quickly. "No. It's been in the hours where she can't account for her husband's whereabouts that I think I'm being watched."

Veronica gave a short nod. "Meet me at Mars Investigations tomorrow, this time, with all the details you have on who's following you. What you have seen, where you've been. Stay in tonight, and I'll see what kind of information I can start digging up on Mrs. McMurphy."

Signaling the end of the meeting with a dismissive look, Veronica pushed passed Madison and swiftly unlocked the door to her apartment. She entered, and swiftly shut the door behind without a backwards glance. It was the only way to keep from changing her mind.

* * *

Keith Mars knocked gently on the door to Suite 607 at the Sunset Regent, before cautiously letting himself inside. "Logan?"

Once he had Logan safely back in Neptune, he'd given him a week's pass. For that time he would not pressure him to return to classes or forcefully suggest he talk to _**anyone**_. He agreed to give the boy time to sober up and process recent events, before allowing his fatherly inclinations to start demanding things.

It was an odd reprieve, considering he'd only given Veronica and her gunshot wound a few days before the nagging commenced. But Keith Mars had always held the opinion that emotional scars took longer to heal than physical ones.

Still, Keith wasn't about to leave Logan totally unattended. While his daughter's way to cope with internal suffering was often to distract herself with productivity, wallowing and self-destruction were much more Logan's style. And there was danger in that.

"Logan, are you here?" Keith pocketed the key card as he stepped farther into the room, eyes and ears searching for a sign of the suite's young inhabitant. There were several meals worth of empty room-service plates and glasses, as well as what appeared to be Logan's school books, all strewn carelessly across the floor. While Keith was taking slight advantage of Veronica's various distractions by having Logan stay somewhere so obvious, he had told Logan that for the sake of his own desired secrecy, he should try and keep too many people from seeing him in town. Obviously, that suggestion was being taken to heart; it looked as if he had not left since Keith checked him in two days before.

As Keith was surveying the clutter, he noticed the sound of running water. He stood, almost awkwardly, in the unfamiliar space and waited for the young man he was still very much trying to work out his feelings toward. His relationship with Logan had always been strained. Even in that other lifetime, before Lilly Kane was murdered, back when Duncan was the boy he was most worried about around Veronica, Logan had been a special concern. He liked the boy for his quick wit and his zest for life, a blend of sensitivity and mischievousness that Keith could relate to. But it was hard to watch his only daughter surround herself with these children of a different world, who rarely played by the rules. He'd have been much more wary had Veronica not always shown such good judgment, such independence, but regardless, he'd often wondered when, even with her level head, she might follow Lilly and Logan right into harm's way.

Then Lilly Kane died and Logan started tormenting his daughter.

And then Logan began dating his daughter.

And in both cases the quick wit and zest for life seemed far less likable.

All the same, Keith was a compassionate man. And no child should have to lose their mother like Logan had. And no child should have a father like Aaron. Plus, he had very much meant what he said on the phone just a few nights prior: he owed Logan a lot.

So it was with a heavy combination of fear and sympathy, unease and gratitude that he often regarded Logan Echolls. And this instant was no different, as Logan finally emerged from the bedroom, hair damp and face drawn.

"Oh, Mr. Mars. I didn't hear you." There was surprise in his voice, but also relief. And absolutely no trace of his characteristic self-satisfied, if just for pretense, tone that Logan had been using for years. Keith marveled at how he'd never sounded younger.

"I'm sorry to surprise you. I just wanted to see how you were getting along, to see if you needed me to get you anything."

Logan motioned for Keith to have a seat before stepping over to the mini-fridge. He took out a bottle of water and held one out in offering. Keith accepted just to have something to do with his hands.

Logan sat down on the edge of the armchair, clearly unable to relax. "I'm doing better. Today was easier than the past few." His eyes were on the coffee table, on his hands, on the wall as he ran frenzied fingers through his hair. "Think I finally have all the, uh, whiskey out of my system. That makes a big difference."

Keith nodded. And waited.

"I, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, Mr. Mars. And I'm amazed I can remember it as clearly as I do. But I want you to know how much it means to me, to hear you say things like that. I've always felt like you hated me, and it bothered me way more than I ever admitted. I wanted your approval because I wanted to be with Veronica of course, but also just because I wanted _**you**_ to like me. You were the best example of a man I'd ever encountered, and I wanted to think I could turn out okay so long as you thought so."

"Logan, I nev-"

"Please, Mr. Mars. Let me get this all out." Logan paused to make sure his interruption hadn't upset Keith. When the older man gave a tiny smile for reassurance, he licked his lips and continued. "I appreciate everything you said that night on the phone, and everything you've done for me since. I really do. But I can't go back. I can't go back to life near her but not with her. And even if by some miracle she'd want me with her, I can't risk ever being the reason she's in pain again. Any kind of pain. I love your daughter too much. God, way too much." Keith watched the truth in that statement flash across Logan's face and felt his own chest ache for what the younger man was feeling. "So, I've decided to leave. I think I'll move east? Maybe. A fresh start. For me, but for her too. And I didn't want you to think that it's because I'm ungrateful, or because I want to just run away and hide. It's different than that. But I just can't be…here. Not after what happened."

Keith was silent for a long time, his expression thoughtful. Logan's eyes pleaded for blessing, but his jaw suggested that he'd be going forward with his plan with or without it.

Finally, Keith spoke, quietly and carefully. Words that were difficult to say, probably difficult to hear, but that he knew to be true. "_This_ is going to hurt her. It's already hurting her, right now. If you really leave, it will break her heart."

To Keith's surprise Logan shook his head dismissively, his answering tone resolute. "She'd hurt worse if I stayed."

Keith sighed, feeling a rare wave of helplessness weighing down on him with disappointment. "I really think this is a mistake." Logan parted his lips as if to dispute his case, but Keith held up his hand to stop him. "But you are an adult and I can't stop you."

Logan blinked a few times then nodded somberly, as if he'd hoped for more but expected less.

Standing and offering a handshake, Keith took a long appraising look at the young man in front of him. "I never hated you, Logan. It's just a scary thing seeing your daughter loved that much, seeing your daughter love that much. Love is painful, and all I've ever wanted was to protect her. But I've never hated you."

Logan's mouth turned up sadly, his eyes tearing slightly as he walked Keith silently to the door.

Even if it didn't really change anything, it was good to know.


	11. Chapter 11

Life Goes On…

Chapter 11: Wake Me Up

Disclaimer: Extremely not mine.

* * *

_I wonder how the occupants of hell are feeling about this cold wave, since me willingly helping Madison Sinclair must definitely be a sign that the inferno has frozen right over. _

_I've spent approximately 15 hours on her case. _

_And at least double that on re-convincing myself that it is the right thing to do._

_Because about a week ago I would have said my current situation was absolutely impossible. __That I'd __**never, **__under any circumstances, __align myself with Madison Sinclair in anyway. _

_But I'm trying not to think in absolutes so much any more._

_A week ago, I was furious enough with Logan to say that I couldn't possibly __**ever**__ miss him this badly. _

_A month before that, I was certain enough that he loved me to believe I'd __**never**__ have to. _

_It seems, thinking in absolutes, really just means lying to yourself. _

_So here I am, helping my arch-enemy, while wondering how life plans to prove me wrong next.... _

* * *

"Piz, you really shouldn't have."

Veronica looked down at the haphazardly wrapped package in her lap, her uncomfortable expression struggling to morph into one that seemed grateful.

"No, Veronica, it really is. I feel awful about what happened to you. And I also feel horrible that I wasn't even around to try and help when you needed it. This is just my little hybrid of "I'm sorry" and "Get well soon.""

Veronica looked at the eager boy beside her, his eyes pleading and his earnestness overwhelming. She was mystified at the innocence someone her own age could still have.

Piz really came from a totally different world.

Relenting with a heavy exhale, she tore at the crinkled paper just enough to lift the lid off the box. Then against her better judgment, she smiled slightly as she looked inside.

The contents were simple, but thoughtful and well meaning. A bottle of extra-strength Tylenol, a box of cartoon superhero band-aids, and a burned CD, labeled in Piz's barely legible scrawl: Songs of My Infinite Shame for Failing You So Completely….and Other Badass Tunes.

While her discomfort lingered, mostly due to the way he was still looking at her so intently but also from his peculiar hopeful vibe she pretended she didn't totally understand, she was genuinely touched at having yet another friend who was proving to be truly better than she deserved.

After all, she'd even forgotten Piz had ever been a part of her plan for that night.

She turned to face him and thanked him sincerely, only to see an unexpected blush color his cheeks followed by a brilliant smile.

"You're welcome. But that's not all. I, uh, also wondered if I could maybe, take you dinner? You know, as an apology?"

Panic clenched at her throat as she felt the tiny smile she'd been wearing slip into a grimace of shock and anxiety.

An actual apology was beyond unneeded. An apology masking an ulterior motive was downright terrifying.

"Piz, look, I really appreciate the gesture, but it's totally unnecessary. I'm really glad that you weren't there for all the chaos and catastrophe. And that yours is one life I didn't endanger with my own stupidity this time. Really, no apology required."

She hoped he heard the no, even if she hadn't exactly come right out and said it, but quickly saw, unfortunately, that he didn't quite get the message. Veronica watched the fall of disappointment darken his features and pinch together his brows, just before his eyes lightened and a slow smile seemed to indicate him rallying back with a new plan. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, an unwanted, but at least well-timed, voice cut through the surrounding noise of the crowded Hearst lawn.

"So, Ronnie. I was just wondering, whose life are you going to be constantly ruining once Logan's officially gone?"

Dick Casablancas' tone was the epitome of baiting nonchalance as he strutted the last few steps up to the bench on which Veronica and Piz sat. His swagger was, as usual, severely grating to Veronica, but not enough to warrant her sarcasm's typical attention when, for the first time ever, she actually cared about the words he was saying.

At the sound of Logan's name, every nerve in her body was instantly alert and she suddenly felt herself being pulled between fear and relief, waiting to pounce on the new information, though Dick seemed oblivious to the desperation that flooded her eyes.

"I have to say right now, I'm going to be pissed if it's me. It would be flattering, if you weren't so good at just wrecking the shit out of guys. Like, I'm bummed enough about my living arrangement being shot to hell, so you need to keep your rich-dude kryptonite away from me. 'Cause, the Dickster does not do east coast. "

Dick's face, which usually just looked simultaneously bewildered by the world and yet smugly unconcerned with it, took a brief pause to seem surprised at Veronica's silence…he'd obviously expected a reaction to his taunts. "You okay, Ronnie? I'm not scared yet."

Veronica shook her head slightly and forced her mouth, which had fallen open with dismay, to close. She asked a new question rather than answering his, her voice softer than normal. "Logan's moving?"

And the bewildered was back. "You didn't know?"

Veronica shook her head so slightly it was a miracle that Dick even noticed.

He sounded legitimately confused as he continued. "Logan went totally AWOL for days, then shows up with that friend of yours…uh, Wallace…like, yesterday, to get a bunch of his stuff. Said he just can't do Neptune anymore and that he's finalizing plans to go to New York or Boston or something? I don't know; I stopped really listening because it wasn't somewhere he could surf." Dick made a disbelieving noise to indicate just how ludicrous this idea seemed to him. "I figured it had to be your fault that he was talking such nonsense?"

Veronica shot up from the bench, unaware that Piz was staring at her, unsure of what was happening, or that Dick's rare serious attention was now shifting to a small group of girls walking past them towards the student center.

She quickly grabbed her things, without really seeing or hearing. Her mind was backed into a corner, frantically trying to process all the punches from the heart-shattering news Dick had just unloaded on her.

Logan had been around all this time, but was avoiding her?

And now Logan was leaving, permanently?

And Wallace, _**her**_ Wallace, knew and hadn't told her?

Immediately there was hurt and anger, and breathless disorientation.

How could he? Either he?

She found herself at her car with no recollection as to how she'd gotten there, not knowing which path across campus she'd walked or how long it had taken. She got in, started the Saturn and began driving, struggling to be a little more aware of her surroundings as she navigated the streets leading to Wallace's home.

She knew his schedule. Knew that with the long break between classes he had on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he liked to go home to do some chores for his mom and hang out with Darryl when he got home from school.

But wouldn't the Wallace, who so eagerly helps his mother and plays with his little brother, have told his best friend he knew how to keep her heart from breaking?

Yes, she knew his schedule, but maybe that didn't meant she knew him.

And if she didn't know Wallace, didn't really know beyond any doubt that she could count on him, then anything, _**anything**_ in her life could be a lie.

* * *

Wallace answered his mother's door, surprised to find his best friend on the other side, her eyes fixated on the ground and her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

He ached just looking at her. She'd been hurting so much lately, and so openly, and it was difficult to watch. "Hey, Superfly. What's--?"

His voice seemed to startle her, and as soon as she looked up at him, Wallace fell silent as he began to ache in a very different way, for fear can be painful.

She knew.

"How long?" Her voice was steel and her eyes were blue flames and she was every metaphor he'd ever read for cool rage and solid determination.

"How long…?" He prompted. As scared as he suddenly was, he did have every intention of answering her questions…he just needed to clarify them first.

She pursed her lips and inhaled sharply.

"How long have you been watching me suffer, knowing where he is?"

Wallace sighed warily. He'd told Mac he'd accept the consequences of keeping these secrets, but that didn't mean he was happy about them. "4 days."

"4 days?!"

He winced at the roaring indignation that burst with fury from the tiny girl before him.

"Yes."

He watched as her eyes filled with tears of betrayal, as she sucked in her lower lip and looked pointedly away. He'd kept a secret from his best friend when she was already broken…and now she was thoroughly devastated.

A moment or ten passed in silence, as he waited for her to look back at him. When she did, the anger had vanished.

But the heartbreak that remained knocked all the breath from his body.

"How could you not tell me?" Her voice was quiet, and barely recognizable through the murk of her tears. "I let you in, Wallace. As in as anyone, ever. Because I believed you when you said you were here with me, for me. On my side. And I do know you meant that, because everything else you've ever done has proven it. But now? God, I just don't understand..." She gasped out a sob, the sound deafening compared to the whisper of her words. "How could you see me falling apart, how could you know that he was what I needed, but not tell me where he was?" Her eyes looked silver now from the gloss of full and heavy tears, her voice rasped as the crying intensified. "I've been in agony, Wallace. Why didn't you stop it?"

Her already tear-stained face totally and completely crumbled, and 5 years worth of torture and pain showed on her face without any restraint.

Without hesitating, Wallace reached out to pull her to his chest. She struggled against his grasp, breaking her arms from his hold, only to finally succumb when, after several violent brush-offs, he still persisted, wrapping his arms fully around her slight frame.

"I'm sorry, Veronica. I hope you know that I'm sorry," was all he could whisper.

Hugging him tighter was all she could do.

* * *

"How is she?"

"She's asleep now, but it was rough getting her there."

Keith nodded as he shut the door quietly behind him, believing the truth in the young man before him's words. It was severely unfortunate that his daughter's best friend had to be the one to fall for this, and he didn't envy Wallace's predicament. Fathers keep things from their children all the time, but best friends….

"I'm really sorry I put you in that position, Wallace. At the time, I thought it was what he needed, and I naively thought we'd have a chance of her not finding out for a long, long time. Which was clearly just stupidity on my part."

Wallace lifted the left corner of his mouth a little. It was the best he could do.

"It's almost over, at least." Keith continued, pulling off his jacket. "He told me tonight that he flies out late Saturday. When he's really gone, I think that'll be the worst of it. Then the rest is the moving on everyone in movies is always talking about. Each day should get easier, so maybe he'll end up being right about fresh starts."

Keith flipped through the mail on the counter casually, before turning to find Wallace staring at him, incredulous.

"No offense, Mr. Mars, but have you met either one of them?"

Keith shrugged, with a humorless smile, and slapped Wallace's knee lightly with paternal affection as he passed by, bidding his almost-son good night.

Making his way down the small hallway of the Mars' apartment, he paused in front of his bedroom door just in time to hear the creak of Veronica's bed as she climbed back into it.

He had in fact met both of them. And that's how he knew that Veronica would be listening.

Now he just hoped it helped.

* * *

Author's Note: My sincerest thanks to anyone reading this. Getting reviews for Chapter 10 after such a unforgivably long hiatus was amazing, possibly miraculous, and anyone who tuned in for this installment has made my heart so very happy.

Love it or hate it, please let me know. Reviews make the world go round... well, no, not scientifically but you know what I mean.


	12. Chapter 12

Life Goes On

Chapter 12: The Chemicals Between Us

Disclaimer: No ownage here. Some borrowage, though.

Author's Note: Yeah, I don't know what the hell this is. Hopefully you like it?

* * *

"So, the muscle has a name. Lance Prattman. He's been picked up a few times with what could have been nasty assault charges had the victims not decided to drop all legal action right before it made it to trial each time. With not a single credit card to his name or any kind of financial trail, the man obviously operates on a jobs-for-cash basis. The good news is he has no known associates. He apparently works alone, and it's just for the money. Meaning, there's no loyalty to navigate through, no thuggish friends to work around. I've got a plan to 'persuade' him to leave you alone, in a way that just might put the fear of God into the jilted wife who hired him."

Madison gave a slight, stiff nod to let Veronica know she understood. Veronica seemed to have reviewed the situation thoroughly, and appeared confident that this thing could be over soon. Madison was relieved, for more reasons than just her safety. Taking a sweeping and derisive glance at the bare walls and cluttered desk of the Mars Investigations office, she was reminded why she'd always disliked Veronica so much:

Veronica had much less than she did. And Veronica didn't care.

She didn't like Veronica, and she'd be very glad to no longer need the smaller girl's assistance.

From very early on, Madison had learned to appraise those around her and find her rank by comparison. Once she knew where she fit, it was easy to steer her way through any situation because it became the simple practice of playing nice with those who had more and taking great pleasure in looking down on those who had less.

When she met Lilly Kane, she knew immediately she was outranked, so Lilly's constant quest for attention and incessant demands for drama were to be expected. The poor, goody-to-shoes by her side, however, was not. She couldn't treat Veronica like the low-class sheriff's daughter that she was…Lilly would not have allowed it. So, Madison resented the disruption to her shallow but oddly-comforting view of the world.

Duncan Kane picking Veronica over his more appropriate, socially acceptable 09er options hadn't helped anything either.

Then everything changed, in a fiery blur of violence and death and police reports and sides being chosen. And when the smoke cleared, Madison was at least grateful to see that Veronica Mars was finally where she belonged…at the bottom of the social ladder, and utterly alone.

But sadly, that didn't last. Madison's bitterness returned and deepened as Logan and Duncan changed their minds back again and began fighting each other for the poor girl's attention and affection. Suddenly the entire school began saying the name "Veronica Mars" with awe and wonder, fear and respect. And Madison suspected that what Veronica had might very well be better than being popular.

Even after graduation, when the class of 2006 thankfully went their separate ways, the nuisance of Veronica's very existence found ways to slip into Madison's life and ruin the things she was supposed to have. That night with Logan in Aspen should have been legendary. As Dick's best friend, and Lilly Kane's boyfriend, it was a well known fact that few men were as, uh, capable as Logan Echolls. But instead of the gorgeous sex-god she'd been lusting after for years, what she'd spent the night with was a mopey shell, barely coherent and sobbing Veronica's name long after the deed was done, as he wrestled through a fitful, drunken sleep.

So yes, Madison Sinclair was jealous. _**Very**_ jealous, in fact, of Veronica Mars. And it was quite painful for her to feel such envy when it should have been the other way around. She wanted out of the Mars Office as soon as possible, and out of Veronica's life just as fast. She wanted to be away from the nagging feeling that maybe she wasn't as great as she always thought she was, always said she was. She wanted so badly to not be here, sitting across from the young detective, that she didn't notice the deep, black-purple circles under Veronica's eyes, nor the way the detective's voice scratched and broke from the exhaustion of crying through the night before.

Madison didn't notice that for the first time ever, Veronica Mars was worse off than she was. Madison was, unsurprisingly, too self-involved to take delight in seeing Veronica Mars totally heart broken.

* * *

Veronica stood very still, staring absently into the polished maze of wood grain that made up the door to room 607. It shone a little in the subdued lighting of the hotel hallway, and she lost herself in a mixture of thought and her own partial reflection.

She felt like it took her years, rather than hours, to desperately assemble the clues she was pretty sure her father had purposefully left for her and discover exactly where she could find Logan, before he was really gone. But now that she was outside the door, certain he was on the other side, she was at a total loss.

How could you make someone stay when he didn't want to?

Even more than she was afraid that she wouldn't be enough to keep him here, she was also terrified that she'd walk in that room and somehow the fight Logan always managed to bring out in her would erupt, explode, and rather than telling him she missed him or needed him or anything relevant at all, she'd let the anger step in again and say awful things she didn't really mean… and he would leave never hearing what she came to say.

When it came to Logan, she'd known she wasn't indestructible long before she ever got the bullet in her arm. He could make her feel anything, and everything, with just a smirk. And that power alone could tear her apart.

As she stared, and stalled, she went back over the conversation she'd had with Wallace and Mac the night before, praying for it to make her brave.

While it still hurt to think that the people she trusted most in the world had hid something so vital from her, she understood now where they were coming from and though she didn't like it, thought she just might have done the same thing in their shoes.

As she had actually lied to them all at one point or another in the name of their own protection.

So, she couldn't really blame Wallace for wanting to help her father.

And, she couldn't really blame her father for wanting to help Logan.

It just sucked that what they'd been asked for was the exact opposite of what she needed.

It was with no resistance this time that she had curled into Wallace's side on her living room couch, with Mac's feet resting across both of their laps, and told them that no matter what he wanted, she wasn't going to let Logan leave without facing her. She'd sounded so confident then, so full of solid conviction. She admitted that she now saw what Logan was to her, and that she couldn't _**not**_ fight for him. She had been brutally forced to let go of so many people in her life, her fingers pried from Lilly, her mother, even Duncan and Meg, against her will. She was not prepared to start doing it by choice.

She stood outside Logan's door and remembered her best friends' encouraging responses. The tight hug of Wallace's that she had let herself melt into and the hand squeeze Mac gave her that she had just known translated in normal-girl-talk to something mushy and poignant. She let her friends remind her that she wasn't just ice and stone and power…she could break, in so many ways. She had broken already, countless times. She did feel, much more than vengeance and anger.

Mac had assured her that she deserved to be fixed. Wallace had insisted that she deserved to be happy.

She smiled a tiny bit remembering how adamant they were.

She was finally finding her confidence again, at least enough to lift her hand to the door and knock, when abruptly the door swung open revealing a surprised and sleepy looking Logan.

* * *

Logan had been planning to make his way to the lobby for additional delivery menus; he had long since tired of the Regent's room service as it paled in comparison to the Grand's. He had been planning to order and eat as quickly as possible and then go back to bed, to make up for all the nights he hadn't slept at all.

He had not planned on opening that door and seeing her face.

Or on hearing her surprised whisper of his name…said with a longing he'd never truly believed she could feel for him.

"Veronica? What are you doing he-, How did you find me?"

He stared at her as she continued to just look back at him, quirking one eyebrow slightly at his last question. Right. He should know by now exactly how Veronica had found him. She could find anyone…if she wanted to.

Swallowing down all the excess emotions from the mere sight of her that he didn't know what to do with, he settled on curiosity as it seemed relatively safe. "Seriously, what are you doing here?" He asked this in a colder tone than he'd intended, but as he stepped back to allow her entrance to the room, he hoped that softened his question a little.

"I, uh," her voice came out weaker than either of them were used to and she cleared her throat for a minute before continuing, "I'm here to talk to you. I know you are planning on leaving, and I don't think you should go."

Logan made a noise of frustrated disbelief. He'd been so close to making it out of here without having to have this conversation. But no, he never could catch a break.

"You don't think I should go? Why not?"

"Well, school for one."

"They have schools outside of Southern California, Veronica. Lots of them. Some really good ones, even."

He could tell she was annoyed that he'd shot down her excuse so quickly, but he also could see she wasn't done yet.

"And then there's Dick."

"What about Dick?"

"He literally has no one but you, Logan. And you wouldn't want to see him slip back into that worthless mess he was just a few months ago."

Logan rolled his eyes at her attempt at a guilt trip. She barely tolerated Dick most of the time, and it was a weak argument even if she really cared. "I'll check in on Dick…and it's not like he can't afford a plane ticket once in a while."

"What about your business with Mac?"

"It's a website." Logan smirked at her, but without any true amusement. "Totally fitting that we use email."

"Then ther-"

Logan rushed to cut her off. Exasperated, he demanded that she get to the point. "What's the real reason, Veronica? I know you know I know that none of this has anything to do with why you are here. Hell, it hasn't much to do with anything at all."

"Logan, I-" Veronica shook her head slightly, then gulped as she looked down and away from him.

He stared at her, and waited patiently in the quiet.

* * *

She wondered how long they'd been standing there, him looking at her, her looking away, when suddenly his voice filled the emptiness. "Veronica."

Her eyes came back to his, but she stayed silent.

He said her name again, softer this time. So soft that it reminded her of the quiet times, when he'd held her in the dark, and they'd talked in whispers for no other reason than to protect those private moments. The times when all they knew was each other and that they were for once totally safe from the hellish lives they'd both been living. The times she was so certain they could protect each other from anything.

She closed her eyes at the sound of it, simultaneously relishing the way it felt to her ears, to her heart, and yet terrified he might never say her name like that again.

"Logan, you shouldn't leave because I want you to stay."

She watched his face with intense interest and careful scrutiny, trying to crack open the code of the tiny pull at his lips and the narrowing of his eyes, the way his breathing changed and a flush hit his cheeks.

He didn't say anything for a painfully long second, as the unwelcome sting of new almost-tears distorted her vision of his handsome face and she felt more powerless than she ever had before.

His face scrunched into a grimace, one she'd witnessed more times than anyone as young as him should ever have had to make it. He seemed to swallow down his thoughts, his reactions, as if what he was feeling and thinking might literally kill him on their way out. He turned away from her and pulled with frustrated fists at his hair. It was a gesture so achingly familiar to her that it seemed like her own. She wondered if that could mean anything else but that he belonged to her.

"Logan."

He then made a noise in response like a wounded animal. Angry and hurting and sad and desperate. He apparently couldn't hold it all in anymore, and it sounded like agony to her ears. "Veronica, I can't be… here." He looked over, wincing at the sight of her it seemed, before turning away again, putting more space between them. "I can't be…around you. Not after what happened. It's just changed everything. The way I understand things now, I see so clearly how wrong I was to drag it all out like this."

Veronica heard him, even over the growing clang of devastation in her ears. She felt her world crumble; shake down into little parts, tiny pieces, that seemed too small to ever be put back together.

Was he saying what she thought? She was scared to know, but she had to ask, even as she prepared for another death at the hands of curiosity. "Drag what out?"

"This! Us." He gestured between them wildly, as if she didn't get the message. From the look on his face it seemed like the worst thing in the world for him to say these things to her, but that didn't keep him from saying them.

Astonished, she looked down over her body, amazed that she could be hurting like this and yet there was not a drop of blood to be found. Had he really decided that it had all been a waste, just when she was realizing it was everything? Had he decided, in just the last few days, that she wasn't worth what he'd just been through? Had the 'I love you's she heard before the ambulance came been nothing but lies?

No, no, no, no, no. Veronica's head flooded with defiance. This couldn't be happening. And she was about to saying something to that effect, when Logan continued.

"I always thought eventually it'd all work out. I don't know how I managed to still believe it, but I did. I thought sooner or later, when whatever cruel, sadistic god might be out there decided that we'd suffered enough, we'd be allowed our happily ever after. Together. And that when the time came, I'd deserve you and everything would just be right." He took a breath like he only had a limited supply. "But, there you were. In my arms, bleeding. And my heart, my soul, just ripped apart to see you like that. And then I remembered where the gun was pointed, who that bullet had been meant for. And then I remembered all the awful words we'd shared before we'd even gotten to the club that night, the terrible way I talked to you. I thought of all the vicious things I've ever said to you. All the horrible, horrible things I've done to you." She could seem him reliving it all again, and she wanted to reach out and assure him that it was the past, that it was behind them, but the dread of where this all was going kept her planted and silent and still. "That's when things just clicked, you know. I'll never get to be happy, Veronica. Because I don't deserve it."

"Logan, no-" Her voice came out strong and her head was shaking, rapidly, trying desperately to let him know how wrong he was. On that, on so many things. But he brushed her disagreement away with a flick of his hand, pushing forward with a voice of heartbreaking certainty.

"I will never deserve you. And I think, 'til that night, I could have stayed anyway, even knowing that. Stayed and waited, until you'd take me back. But, even though I'm selfish, there is something I can't bear even more than my own pain…and that's yours. I can't stay, and risk hurting you anymore."

His voice had been so low, the fullness of his sincerity drenching his words in a deep and hypnotic timbre. As he finished with regret and shame pooling together with the tears in his eyes, Veronica was paralyzed, in a trance, thoroughly stunned at how he could say it all, believe it all, when so much of it wasn't true. She gaped at him, mouth slightly open in exhausted shock, her quick and capable mind running over the main points again until she found herself scoffing out loud at his lunacy.

Like an electrical jolt, a bolt of lightening, humorless laughter broke free, the sound much larger than her, filling the room. She registered him notice and flinch as everything about her face, her stance, her energy, shifted, but she had too many other thoughts and observations pushing to the forefront of her mind.

The incredulous sound of her laughter stopped, and she stepped towards him in a rage. She'd been weakened, desperate, for days. So much so that she barely recognized herself. But she understood now, just how literally she _**needed**_ Logan. He made her strong. In his absence she'd withered, but here in his presence, she felt powerful again. And now she was going to use that against him, to her advantage.

"You can't risk hurting me, so you're leaving me?! Are you stupid, Logan?" She took another step forward, looking up into his eyes as they darted around her face, taking in her fury. "You leaving would essentially crush me. Don't you see that?"

His expression stopped searching as he snapped into his own defense. Apparently she made him strong too, because there was a definite hint of annoyed bite in his response. "Don't be so melodramatic. It only fits you when you are making threats or banishing people with your self-righteousness. Romantic hyperbole has no place in your repertoire. Yeah for a time, maybe, it would hurt a little for you. But I know first hand how quickly you can move on, Veornica, especially when I'm not right there, fighting for your attention."

"If that is a Duncan jab, so help me God…"

"Oh, of course not. Because even in what may very well be our last possible conversation, the Donut is too sacred to be spoken of…especially by me."

"That's not the point and you know it. And if you are just trying to piss me off so I'll give up and leave, you really should know better."

"Know better than expecting you to run out when things get difficult or unpleasant? Yeah, what a ludicrous idea for someone who's met you. Or your mother."

It was like a slap, stinging immediately on impact and rushing through her as it appeared out of nowhere. Yet even as his words twisted their way inside her, so painfully, the jibe hitting her as excruciatingly on target as possible, she noted the realization on his face as he saw that he'd gone too far, and his instant self-flagellation was apparent through the self-loathing in his stare.

The shouting vanished as quickly as it had come, and his voice was a whisper when he spoke. "See. I hurt you. Again." He hung his head sadly. "I'm no good for you, Veronica."

Her eyes burned into him, with anger-tipped disbelief. "No good for me? God, do you know how many times you've saved me, Logan? From danger, from death? From myself?" She stepped in again as she spoke, so close to him now, praying that with proximity he'd see the truth in her words. "You loved me enough to stand between me and literal gun after metaphorical gun after literal gun. Even when I've run or pushed you away, or demanded that you leave, you've always stepped back in and saved me. You make me feel beautiful, Logan. Even when everything I see, everything I do, everything I touch, seems ugly and broken. And instead of returning the favor, I've beat you down, with my mistrust and my issues and my fear. You have so many doubts about yourself, Logan, that you shouldn't, all because I put them there. And I can't begin to apologize enough for that. _**I'm**_ no good for _**you**_. But I'm the selfish one because I want you to want me anyway. And I want you to stay. Please."

Her plea hung in the air for no more than the flash of a second, before Logan had crushed his lips forcefully, desperately, so passionately, against hers.

* * *

Author's Note 2: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review. Please?


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